


The Corruption of Colt Jackson

by StuffandThangs11



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coercion, Detox, Dry Humping, Dry Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fingerfucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intimidation, Jealousy, Loss of Control, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsessive Behavior, Overdosing, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Phone Sex, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Public Blow Jobs, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Public Scene, Public Sex, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Orientation, Stalking, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Tattoos, Threats of Violence, Vomiting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 78,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuffandThangs11/pseuds/StuffandThangs11
Summary: Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

The first time Colt meets Marc he’s flying. That’s what it always feels like after a good set on stage. The Drunk Wizards, a rock band that Colt plays the fiddle with had just had a fantastic final set of the night. There’s a moment in most performances when the band and the patrons of a bar are so in sync with one another that they become one, like two chambers of a beating heart. One side can’t exist without the other. After a set like that who wouldn’t be soaring?

Colt lands at the bar, just off of the stage and asks the bartender for a water.

“Just water?”

A look at the voice gives Colt the perfect view of a crooked smile and sparkling brown eyes that instantly makes his chest feel tight. It’s a man wearing it though and while Colt can appreciate the attractiveness of a man, he’s never been attracted to one.

This man is brown skinned, head shaved with sharp features and brown eyes. He’s built like he goes to the gym more regularly than Colt does. Colt has a high enough metabolism and is toned enough to be okay with being a mediocre gym goer. The man sitting on a stool next to him looks like he’s worked very hard to have the muscles he has.

“Just water.” He says with a nod.

Having grown up with an abusive, alcoholic father, Colt has never cared to drink all that much. In his experience, alcohol makes people mean. Logically, he knows that that isn’t true for everyone. But he and his mom still wear scars, both inside and out, from the man who wrote the book on alcohol for him.

“Boring.” The man says, looking at the tender and pointing to his almost empty beer. “I can’t believe you just put on a show like that and you’re drinking water. I can’t believe you look like you look and you’re drinking water.”

Colt’s chest feels a little bit tighter. Is this guy flirting with him? Colt knows he’s not a bad looking guy, although he has the same nit-picky insecurities as most people have. Colt is tall and just under six feet, with sun-kissed skin, green eyes and locks of sandy blond hair that brushes his shoulders. He keeps a neatly trimmed stubbled beard and mustache and has a few piercings in each ear.

Still, he’s never been flirted with by a guy. It feels dangerous to him. The thought that it feels dangerous is silly though, isn’t it? Some guys like guys. That’s fine. He wouldn’t have pegged the guy at the bar for liking guys though, which is more on him than anything else. Never judge a book by its cover, that’s a saying that everyone should remember and live by.

“What’s wrong with drinking water?”

“You’re in a bar. You just killed it up there with your band. They were chugging shots like badasses and you kept handing yours off.”

A water is placed in front of Colt and a beer in front of the other guy. Colt tilts his head curiously. “You were watching me?”

His company has the wherewithal to look like he’s just been caught, pulling his lip through his teeth and looking away. When the man looks back at him he’s wearing that crooked smile again that makes Colt’s chest feel tight, his shoulders lifting with a shrug. “Everyone in here was watching you.”

Colt laughs a bit, shaking his head. “Nah. But thanks for the compliment. My ego just grew a few sizes too big.”

“Marc Fiarri.” The man offers him a hand to shake and Colt takes it.

“Colt Jackson.”

And that’s how they meet. After that, Colt sees Marc at more of his gigs. They run into each other almost every weekend and have conversations.

“Hey water boy.”

Colt smiles and waggles his water at Marc. “How you doin’, Marc?”

“I’m alright. Tired, but alright.” He gestures to the stage. “Sounded good.”

“Thanks.”

“Who taught you to play?”

“A very patient music teacher when I was a kid. Violin, actually. The fiddle came later.”

“Violin? Damn. That’s boring.” There’s teasing behind the words that makes Colt grin.

“Boring, huh?”

“Yeah. Boring as hell. Where you from?”

“Texas. You?”

“Right where we are. Jersey. How’d you end up here?”

“I drove. As soon as I could, I drove.” Colt answers. "I eventually ended up here."

“What’s your day job?”

Colt laughs again. “Well, if you think I’m boring already… I’m a librarian.”

“Holy shit. Yeah, that clinches it. You’re the most boring motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

“What’s your day job?”

“I work at my dad’s garage. Fixing cars.” Marc answers. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-Nine, knocking on thirty’s doorstep. You?”

“Thirty-one. I beat you to it.” Marc stands there a moment in silence before posing another question. “You single?”

“What is this, an inquisition?”

“I don’t know about that… inquisition? Just asking.”

Colt sips at his water, feeling that he’s in dangerous territory again for no good reason that he can think of. “I’m single.”

Marc’s eyes seem to light up at that answer, some of his swagger that he’d lost when he’d first posed the latest question coming back. “Have a drink with me.”

“We’re having a drink right now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t drink when I’m out.”

“That’s dumb. Then come to my place.”

Yes, Marc is definitely hitting on him. Colt feels an obligation to say something. “Look, I’m… I think you’re fun to talk to. But I’m not...”

“You think you’re not.” Marc reaches out, brushing his fingers lightly over the back of one of Colt’s hands. The touch makes goosebumps slide up his arm. “But you can’t see the way you look at me.”

There’s that crooked smile again. Colt feels like everything melts away and there’s nothing but that smile and the memory of a touch to his hand that happened seconds ago.

What is wrong with him? He’s never reacted this way to a guy before.

Colt shakes his head. “I gotta go. It was good seeing you again.”

Marc stares at him with a confident and knowing look that makes Colt feel seen in a way that most people don’t see him. “You too.”

The next weekend they meet again. Marc asks him to have a drink with him again. Colt declines. The next weekend again, after the Drunk Wizards play, there’s Marc again. They talk. Colt declines a drink. 

There’s a weekend when Marc is a no show at the gig Colt’s band is playing. Colt wonders what happened and if he’s okay. Did Marc finally get the hint? Colt is surprised to find that he’s a little disappointed at the prospect.

The following weekend he sees Marc walk into the pub they’re playing from on stage. He watches Marc take a seat at the bar and look over to him. Colt smiles at him in the middle of their set. It’s hard to see details past the bright lights of the stage, but he thinks he sees Marc’s crooked grin. His heart skips a beat.

After the last set, after packing up his instrument and saying goodbye to his band mates, Colt makes his way to the bar.

“Missed you last week.” He says before he even gets to the bar. As he steps closer, he notices that Marc has a black eyes and a busted lip. His smile fades as memories of his own childhood flash before his eyes.

“Yeah? I missed you too, Texas.”

“What happened?”

“Fell down some stairs?” He shakes his head and shows off the back of his own hand, knuckles broken and bruised. “Don’t worry. I gave better than I got.”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No. No doctors. What I do need is for you to have a drink with me.”

Colt shakes his head. “You know that I...”

“I know.” Marc nods. “Why doesn’t your band have a schedule for the next few weekends?”

“Careful. I’m gonna have to start calling you a fan.” In a vague way, Colt had known that that’s how Marc is always where the Drunk Wizards are playing. He keeps up with their website. He kind of likes having it confirmed though. “We’re taking a few weeks off. We have lives outside of this, believe it or not.”

“Librarian stuff?”

“Yeah, that. But also I help coach a little league team. We’ve made it to the finals and that’s happening for the next three, possibly four weekends.”

Marc barks a laugh. “Man, you are as vanilla as they come.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means… I’m waiting for you to be an asshole in some way but you’re just a good guy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re a good guy too.”

“No, I’m not.” Marc reaches for a bar napkin and a pen and starts writing on the napkin. “Here’s my number. You can call me or not… but I kind of hope you do.”

Colt takes the napkin with numbers scrawled across it. “Why?”

“Because I shouldn’t like vanilla, but fuck me if I do. And someday we’re gonna get a drink.”

 

* * *

 

A week passes. It’s a rough week. Seeing Marc’s face beaten the way it was, seeing his bruised and scabbed knuckles has really done a number on Colt – more so than he could have predicted. He spends the entire week thinking about it, remembering his father’s fists connecting with his own body when he had been too young to fight back. It’s all he thinks about, memories he’s tried to bury and the idea that someone had hit Marc.

He thinks about it at church on Sunday, at the library, at little-league practice and leading up to the games the next weekend. He gets through the games and the celebratory aftermath of taking the kids out for ice cream.

Once he’s showered and settled at his small house, Colt has more time to think. He wishes he had a gig tonight even though he’s too tired for a gig. A gig would keep him busy. A gig would take his mind off of the freshly stirred up memories. A gig would mean seeing Marc again.

Colt tells himself that he just wants to see him to make sure he’s okay. Deep down he knows that that isn’t entirely true. He’s grown accustomed to seeing Marc every weekend.

He looks at the napkin on the coffee table for a long while before he gets out his phone. He doesn’t call, he texts.

 **Colt:** Hey. It’s Colt.

Less than a minute later he has a response. It feels like a long almost minute though.

 **Marc:** Hey. I was just thinking about you. Ready for that drink?

 **Colt:** I just wanna know that you’re okay.

 **Marc:** Worried about me? That’s sweet, Vanilla.

 **Colt:** Yeah, I guess I’m worried about you. I can’t quit thinking about you.

 **Marc:** I can’t quit thinking about you either.

Colt smirks.

 **Colt:** I mean your face. Your hands

 **Marc:** You have a nice face too. The hands are alright.

Colt rolls his eyes.

 **Colt:** You’re incorrigible.

 **Marc:** There you go with that library-speak again. Come over.

After a deep breath, Colt sets his phone on the couch beside him and stands up to pace his living room. Marc wants him to go to his place and after all the flirting and invitations to drink with him, the implications are obvious.

There’s only been once that Colt has ever stepped out on a limb without knowing exactly what he was going toward and what was going to happen. Much of his childhood and into his teens had been out of his control in every way. When he left Texas and his dad and mom behind, that had been a leap of faith, a terrifying leap of faith… and look at him now.

Colt hears a bark outside and goes to the back door to let his dog in, a black haired Great Dane that he’d rescued at the local shelter.

“Hey, Emmitt. Hey, buddy.” Colt scratches at the dog’s ears and feeds him.

When he hears his phone chime again, he grabs it from the couch and finds another text from Marc.

 **Marc:** You there, Vanilla?

 **Colt:** I’m not that brave.

 **Marc:** Let me be brave for you.

 **Colt:** How?

 **Marc:** Whose place are we being brave at?

Colt sets his phone down again and takes another deep breath. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. He paces the room again, thinking, Emmitt lazily watching from his pillowed dog bed. It’s several minutes later when he picks up his phone and texts Marc back with his address.

 **Colt:** My place.

It feels safer to be in his own space. It feels like there are fewer unknowns even if there’s still a helluva lot of unknowns.

He stares at his own text and instantly thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have done it. He knows what he’s inviting to an extent. He isn’t stupid, although he can accept that he’s naive in a few respects. But this feels new and exciting. It’s also scary.

Colt is scared.

 **Marc:** Give me half an hour.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

It’s a long half hour. It’s time enough for Colt to feel like he’s being stupid, like he should text and call it off, like he’s inviting trouble into his life. On the other hand, there’s the off chance that maybe things will be okay. He can just imagine that he’s some cliché guy from a Southern small town come up to the big city and finding himself in over his head.

He doesn’t wanna be that guy.

Since leaving Texas, he’s played his life very smart and to the letter. He’s worked hard. He’s been a good person. He’s been thoughtful and careful with every decision he’s made. Everything in his world is under his control as much as it can be.

Right now he feels reckless. It’s an odd feeling and he isn’t sure he’s cut out for it.

He hears the rumble of an engine and peeks outside from a window to see a shiny sports car pulled up in front of his house. It’s not the kind of car he would have imagined Marc driving. He lets the curtain fall back in place when he sees Marc getting out of the car.

He waits until he hears the knock on the door before going to it, taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Marc stands there, bruises still on his face and looking pleased to be here. The man carries a paper bag in one arm and has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“Here. Take this.” He gives Colt the paper bag.

A peak inside shows two six packs of beer and a bottle of something. Drinks.

Colt steps aside to let Marc in. “You were serious, huh? About the drinks.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna drink with me.”

Colt watches as Marc sets the duffel down and looks around the small living room, dining room and joined kitchen. When Emmitt rises and pads over to inspect him, Marc offers his hand and lets the dog sniff at him before petting at his ears.

“Well, that clinches it. If Emmitt likes you then I guess you’re alright.”

“He’s a hella big dog. What is he? Great Dane?”

“Yeah. He’s an old man dog.” His pup loses interest and goes back to lay down. “See? He mostly just lays around.”

Marc grins crookedly at Colt. “This is a cool place.”

“Thanks.” Colt tries to search for something to say. Their normal ease of conversation at bars is lost now that it’s just the two of them and Colt is nervous as hell. “I uhm… uh...”

“Hey. I’m glad you invited me over.”

Did he invite Marc over or had it been a mutual decision? Had he been pushed into it? Had Marc invited himself over? Colt can’t really tell right now and he supposes that it doesn’t really matter now that the man is here.

“To be honest, I’m nervous and I have no idea what I’m doing right now.”

Marc steps closer to him, that mischievous grin still in place. “Breathe. It’s just me.”

Colt studies Marc’s bruised face up close. “Who hit you?”

“That’s not important.” Marc shakes his head and reaches out for Colt’s hand.

Colt looks down at his hand in Marc’s and slowly his fingers curl to hold onto Marc’s hand as well. His thumb brushes over the cuts and bruises on Marc’s knuckles. “It’s important to me.”

“Let’s have a drink. Yeah?”

The paper bag is sitting on the small table where he’d left it and Colt looks over to it. A drink won’t hurt. In fact, it would probably help. He’s drank before, usually when alone at home.

Having a drink now does not make him his father, he reminds himself.

“Yeah.” Colt says with a nod.

Marc lets go of his hand and goes into the kitchen to find two glasses. He comes back with two small tumblers that Colt usually uses for orange juice and then grabs the bottle from the bag. It’s whiskey, Colt can see now. Marc fills two glasses and brings one back to him.

“Let’s shoot it.” Marc says.

“Aren’t you classy coastal folk supposed to toast with this kind of drink?”

Marc smirks. “If you think I’m classy, you got me pegged all wrong. But alright. Let’s toast to adding some spice to the vanilla.”

“Oh come on now...”

“Hey you wanted a toast.” Marc holds his glass up, waiting. “Come on.”

Colt lifts his eyes to the ceiling and back down. “To adding some spice to the vanilla.”

They clink glasses and the both of them drink all of what’s in the glass. It burns its way down Colt’s throat and he feels himself making a face. Marc, however, makes no face and is watching him with amusement even as he pours more of the liquor into Colt’s glass.

“Holy crap, that was strong. Isn’t there beer?”

“There is. One more shot.” Marc says. “And this time we toast to letting me be brave for you.”

Colt stares at Marc for a moment, wondering what letting the other man be brave for him entails. This is a leap of faith. It might be a huge mistake, but people make mistakes all the time.

“To letting you be brave for me.” Colt says quietly.

Marc nods and clinks their glasses together before they both take the second shot. This one doesn’t burn quite so much, but it’s still strong and still has a sting. Colt makes another face and Marc chuckles at him.

“Are you laughing at me? That’s not cool.” Except that Colt is laughing at himself too.

Marc shrugs. “Shut up. You’re cute.”

Once they get beers, they go sit on the couch and the ease with which they normally converse slowly returns. They talk for a long time about music they like and things they like to do. They tell jokes and laugh a lot. It’s a great time and Marc never pushes anything more than talking.

What Marc does do is keep a steady stream of beer in Colt’s hand. When one is empty, another bottle is put into his hand. And when they’re through most of the beers, Marc gets the tumblers and keeps Colt’s glass full.

Colt notices this and decides he doesn’t mind because they’re at his house and Marc is nice and he can sleep in the next day. He’s having a good time and really enjoying Marc’s company.

Marc pours more whiskey into Colt’s glass and Colt shakes his head. “There was one time when I got really drunk…”

“Like right now?” Marc teases him.

“Noooo it was awhile back. Years ago. I had just bought this house and I thought to celebrate I’d buy myself some beer and tequila.”

“I should’ve brought tequila.”

“Oh I haven’t drank tequila since then cause… it was bad. I just sat in here, didn’t have any furniture yet, and drank. I drank to the new house and being out of Texas and makin’ it on my own and… lots of stuff. I paid for it the next day though.”

“Hungover?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you puke?”

“Definitely. That did happen.” Colt sips at the whiskey. “And I’ve never drank that much since then. You seem to handle your booze way better than me. I don’t think you’re half as drunk as I am.”

“I’m feeling good enough. Also, I’m a professional.” Marc says. “I drink a lot.”

“Hmm...” Colt’s head lolls to the back of the couch and he looks over to Marc. “That scares me.”

“I’m being brave for you tonight. Remember? You can be scared all you want. I’ll take care of things. I’ll take care of you.”

Marc’s fingers touch Colt’s hair, slowly comb through the locks again and again. It feels good and Colt lets himself feel it.

“You like that?”

Colt nods, still looking at Marc’s bruised face. “Yeah.”

“You ever kissed a man?”

In the part of Texas Colt is from, there’s not very much of that, at least that he knows of, although in other parts of the state there’s a lot of it. Colt thinks his dad would have beat him even more, maybe even killed him, if he’d ever even thought about kissing a man.

“No. I’ve never kissed a man.”

“You ever thought about kissing a man?”

“No.” Colt starts, then adds. “Not until right now. But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m drunk and I’m not...”

“Shhhh… you’re just scared.”

Colt doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know that that’s not the truth. He is scared. The waters are very muddy with Marc right now.

He feels Marc’s lips brush his and he isn’t even sure that he’d seen Marc lean in closer to him. The other man’s fingers are still gently combing through his hair and then their lips meet and Colt is being kissed, softly and slowly… and then Colt kisses Marc back and the drunken haze that his body has rested into begins to come to life in every way.

When the kiss breaks, Marc stays close. “See? Not so scary. You survived, Vanilla.”

“I survived.”

“Did you like that?”

Colt isn’t sure that he wants to say yes because of it might mean for him. It makes him uncomfortable to answer yes to that question. The truth is undeniable though. He liked it a lot. He wants to do it again.

Instead of answering with words, he just nods. He’s gifted with a handsome lopsided grin.

 

***

 

The next morning Colt is plush against the back of the couch and the heat of another person is behind him. As he slowly wakes up he remembers the night before. Marc is still here. Colt is sandwiched between the back of the couch and Marc. Marc’s arm drapes over Colt’s waist at his side.

From what he can tell, aside from discarded shoes the both of them are still fully clothed.

That last detail gives him immense relief.

He had told Marc that he was a good guy too and the man had protested. To Colt, this is proof that he wasn’t just projecting what he wanted Marc to be onto him. It’s proof that he was right.

Colt closes his eyes and lets himself drift back into sleep, content to stay here in this comfortable place. Maybe he can sleep off the slight headache he has.

It’s noon when Colt wakes up again. He still feels Marc at his back. He doesn’t want to move and wake the other man up. He doesn’t want to break the good feeling of last night. He doesn’t want to have awkward morning encounters so he tries to stay very still.

He kissed a man last night. Oh god, he kissed another man. They had kissed multiple times, just kissed… but still...

Nerves flare up with the memory, fully waking him back up.

The headache is gone, only to be replaced with a roiling stomach. Colt decides to breathe his way out of it and go back to sleep. It doesn’t work. Perspiration begins to form on his brow and he knows what’s coming.

Colt quickly pushes himself up, leaps over Marc and runs for his bedroom and into the joined bathroom to expel what needs to be expelled. He gets there just in time.

He didn’t hear Marc rouse or follow him into the bathroom, but he hears the sink turn on and then feels a cool washcloth pressed to his brow as another hand smooths his hair back from his face. The cool cloth is welcome as Marc kneels down and slides it over Colt’s face, the back of his neck.

“Could’ve told me you weren’t feeling good.” Marc says. “Feel better?”

Colt nods, because yes, now that he’s gotten all that out of his stomach, he feels better. “I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“I’ve been in and out of sleep for awhile now.”

“I think we drank a little bit too much last night.” Colt tries to joke.

Marc keeps holding the cloth to Colt’s face. “No such animal. We drank just enough, and I liked it.”

“Yeah this is real fun and sexy right now, huh?”

“It is.” Marc says, serious as can be. “I like seeing Vanilla get fucked up.”

Colt’s brain skips over that last statement. “You’re not hungover?”

“Nope.” There’s that crooked grin again. “I told you I was a professional.”

Marc leaves Colt to tend to other business and take a quick shower and brush his teeth. When Colt emerges from the bathroom he’s still not at a hundred percent, but he’s a lot better than he was.

He finds Marc in his bedroom, sitting on the bed. Colt gestures back to the bathroom. “Do you need to…?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.” Marc stands up and moves close to Colt, Marc’s hands on Colt’s hips. Without any preamble he leans in to kiss Colt.

Initially, Colt leans back from the kiss but Marc chases him and gets the kiss. Once there’s contact, memories of last night surface and Colt returns the kiss. His stomach and chest are roiling with a different kind of nerves.

He shakes his head. “I’ve never...”

“Yes you have. You did last night.”

“I know, but before that. Before you.”

“I know. I’m your first. It’s okay. I actually like it.” Marc says. “I might even come back tonight for some more firsts.”

He might come back? Colt can’t decide if he wants that or not, which makes him look at it more logically. It’s Saturday. Tonight is Saturday night. “I have church tomorrow morning.”

“Hot damn, Vanilla. Church?” Marc just shakes his head for a bit. Then continues after a moment. “So I’ll see you tonight?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I do.” Marc kisses Colt again. Colt belatedly kisses him back and then watches him retreat to the bathroom.

He feels like he’ll have a lot to atone for at church on Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

It turns out that all Colt has to atone for is more kissing. He isn’t going to complain about that. First, he’d expected more than just kissing and was pleasantly surprised when Marc didn’t push for more. Second, there had been minimal drinking. Marc and he had lounged on his couch binging some super hero show on Netflix. Oh, Marc made sure that Colt had some beer, but nothing hard. Lastly, Colt can admit to himself, even if he can’t admit it out loud, that he likes kissing Marc. There’s nothing to complain about.

When it came time for church the next morning, Marc watched Colt get ready and then kissed him before they exited the house and went their separate ways.

There’s no word from Marc the rest of Sunday. Radio silence on Monday. Nothing on Tuesday.

For these three days Colt has told himself that he won’t initiate anything. He wants to wait and see if Marc loses interest now that he made the vanilla guy drunker than shit and kissed him. He wants to wait and see if he can shake Marc if just because there are parts of him that feel like it’s wrong to want to kiss him even though it feels so good and right in the moment.

On the third day he starts to get worried about Marc although he resolutely sticks to his guns and does not call or text him.

Wednesday at work, the city library, he gets a text and he’s relieved to see that it’s from Marc.

 **Marc:** Hey, Vanilla. Got busy with work. You mad?

 **Colt:** Why would I be mad? Are you okay?

 **Marc:** Kissing and disappearing. I’m fine. You look fine too.

Colt’s brow furrows and then his gaze snaps up to see Marc standing over by a row of books with his phone in his hand. After some hesitation, Colt goes to him.

“What are you doin’ here?”

“Looking at books. You wanna help me find one?”

Colt smirks and shakes his head. Marc’s bruises are starting to fade into a gross yellowish color. Colt is glad. He still hates that someone hit Marc and that Marc won’t tell him who it was, but he’s glad the man is healing.

“So… did you pray me away at church?”

He knows what Marc is talking about, the whole ‘pray the gay away’ mentality that some Christians have. Colt doesn’t believe in that concept. People are who and what they are.

His lips twist into a small smile and he jokes in response. “I’m workin’ on it.”

“You can’t.” Marc slides his tongue over his lips and bites on his bottom lip. Colt thinks he intentionally makes a show of it for Colt’s benefit.

Kudos to Marc because Colt’s gaze slips down to Marc’s lips and lingers there, eliciting memories from their two nights together. “Oh, I can’t? Why can’t I?”

Marc begins to step backward away from Colt. “Cause you wanna kiss me right now. You want me to kiss you.”

“What makes you think that? Maybe I’m done letting you be brave for me.”

“Are you?”

When Marc disappears around the corner of a stack Colt tells himself to go back behind the desk at the front and stay there. His feet won’t move in that direction though and after a moment he ends up moving to the end of the stack and looking around the corner where Marc had vanished from sight.

A hand grabs the sleeve of his shirt and pulls him behind the stack. Lips are on his and Colt is kissing in return before he frantically pulls his head back and looks around for other people whether coworkers or patrons.

“Not here.” He whispers.

“Why not?” Marc still holds onto Colt’s shirt and turns the both of them around so that Colt’s back is pressed to shelving and a row of books. “Are you really done with me?”

“I… no. I don’t know.” Is he done? He can still feel the remnants of Marc’s kiss on his lips. He likes those remnants. He liked the kiss.

Marc kisses him again, not like the soft and sweet kisses in Colt’s living room. This kiss is hot and demanding and hungry. He feels the top button of his slacks loosen and his shirt is pulled out and un-tucked just enough that Marc’s hand can get in beneath his boxer briefs.

“Marc...” Colt hisses the other’s name against his lips and then he’s kissed again as his cock is stroked. He’s hard. He’s so hard and wanting and not wanting and conflicted about it.

“Wait.” He puts his hands on Marc’s arms and pushes a little, but only a little because what Marc is doing feels so good with the added edge of it being at the wrong place and the wrong time.

“Do you want me to stop?” Marc asks, kissing Colt again before he can answer. “Are you done with me already? Do you want me to stop?”

Colt wants to answer yes. He wants to answer no. He has no real answer, so he stays quiet and lets his orgasm take him, burying his face into Marc’s shoulder to keep himself as quiet and muffled as possible.

He feels the wet stickiness of his own jizz in his pants and embarrassment starts to creep in. He clings tightly to Marc’s arms. “Don’t move. Can they see it?”

“Shhhh, Vanilla… You’re fine. I’ll take care of you.” Marc gets a handkerchief from his back pocket. The kerchief looks like it used to be red but has faded to a pink-orange-ish and is smeared with what looks like grease and smells like oil. Marc slips it down into Colt’s pants and cleans him up… mostly.

The other man shoves the handkerchief back into his back pocket and brings his thumb up to Colt’s lips to smear some of what’s left of his own cum there as if it were lip balm. It dries quickly but Colt can smell his own spill as surely as if it were the cologne he spritzes on in the morning.

Colt is too stunned with what just happened to do or say much of anything. He stands still, breathing in his own spunk while Marc puts him back together.

He’s kissed a man. Now that man has touched his cock and gotten him off in public. It felt good. He’d hated it, but he’d also liked it. He’s never done anything like that.

Wrapping his mind around all of this is going to take some time.

He looks down to see that his shirt is tucked back in, slacks zipped and buttoned. There’s no sign of what has just transpired. Anyone who comes by now won’t be the wiser.

The death grip he’s had on Marc’s arms slowly eases until he quits holding onto him. Colt’s green eyes look up into Marc’s brown and they stare at one another for a long, tense moment.

“You’re not done with me.” It isn’t a question. It’s a statement of fact.

Colt is still too shocked to find the words to argue the fact and isn’t even sure whether he would argue it if he could. Nonetheless, Marc waits Colt out until Colt says something.

“I’m not done with you.” Colt says.

“That’s what I thought, Vanilla. Good choice.” Marc backs away several steps leaving Colt suddenly feeling entirely too exposed no matter the clean up job Marc had done. “See you tonight?”

Colt nods deftly and then watches Marc walk away. He hears the doors of the library, the ding that sounds throughout the whole place when the doors are opened and the thump of their closing. Then he closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths.

What just happened? It was intense and unexpected and Colt isn’t sure how to feel about it.

Maybe he can talk to Marc tonight and sort things out in his mind. Surely they can talk about what just happened and why it shouldn’t happen again, right? It shouldn’t happen again.

Colt isn’t sure if he really believes that or if he’s trying very hard to convince himself of it.

**

“Yo, Colt!”

Colt is leaned back against a far wall and looks up when he hears his name. After work he’d had to come to a planned band practice, scheduled during their off time just to keep their sound tight and to try out some new stuff their lead singer has written.

Their lead singer, Sam McCoy is the one who called on him. He’s tall and slender with a head of long brown hair and a full beard. He’s a cool guy, very laid back and he loves the sound that Colt adds to their bands. Not all rock bands have a stringed instrument player at their disposal.

Colt lifts his chin in acknowledgment.

“You here with us, man? Seem distracted today.”

Yes, Colt is distracted. He’s still wearing the clothes from work. He’d washed his lips several times but can swear that he still smells his own spill from earlier that day.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, just thinking.”

“Well think about the nothing after the first two verses of the new song. I wanna give you about… say two minutes to just riff on the fiddle, man. Really show you off for once.”

“Oh. Cool. Yeah I can do that.” Colt leans down to jot some notes down after the second verse of the new song.

“Yeah, it’ll be between the end of the second verse before we do the chorus again. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, Sam. You’re the real McCoy...” The rest of the band laughs at his joke and they pick up working the song again.

Colt is so pleased to have a moment to stand out front and shine. Sam has never offered him that before in the four years he’s been with the band. It’s exciting to him and in this first run through he really tries to give it his all and show off.

Sam is all smiles during his bit and the rest of the band seems pleased too until they all get back into the chorus again to continue the song.

After practice Sam calls him over. They bump fists in greeting as Sam speaks. “Man that was fucking awesome. I think we might wanna add more of that in other songs too. Artie says that all the feedback on the string stuff is good.”

Artie is the manager for Drunk Wizards. They’re just a well-known local and surrounding cities band right now but Sam eventually wants to try to go mainstream. Colt has no idea if they’ll keep him if they go mainstream. Right now he gets paid less than the others because he was a late addition to the band and he doesn’t play every song.

“I’m also writing a ballad I’d like you to look over. It won’t be as upbeat and hardcore as what we usually do but I think it’d be awesome with your accompaniment.”

Sam passes Colt a notebook and he starts to read the words on the page. Music can read like poetry and be just a poignant. The song is about wanting and not having, unresolved feelings, tension and confusion.

Needless to say, it speaks to Colt.

“This is really good, man. Maybe if you switch this part of this verse and bring the rest down here...”

“Yeah. Yeah I can see that.” Sam takes the notebook and makes the notes. “You have a good eye for music.”

“Thanks.”

“You alright? I mean with all the thinking you were doing during practice today. You seem off.”

Colt puts on as good a smile as he can and nods. “Yeah I’m fine. Just been a long day and I’m ready to be home.”

Sam stands and brings Colt in for a hug. They clap each other on the back a few times before pulling back. “Go home, man. Get some sleep. My mom always used to tell me that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet. It’s from some book or some shit. You like books.”

“Yeah, that’s from Anne of Green Gables. That was my mom’s favorite book.”

“Sounds like a chick book.”

Colt laughs and goes outside to his bike. His instrument is in a case strapped to his back. He puts his helmet on and revs the bike engine to life before taking off toward home.

He wants to hole up for the night, lock all the doors and draw the curtains, take a shower and veg on the couch with a good book. He wants time to think. He wants time to work through whatever is going on with Marc. Maybe things will be more clear tomorrow.

At a stoplight, he gets his phone and texts Marc.

 **Colt:** Hey. I’m wiped. It’s been a long day. Rain check for another day?

The response is immediate.

 **Marc:** No. See you tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

By the time Colt gets to his house he’s seething. Usually when you imply that you need time to yourself, no matter what it’s for, other people respect it. That’s the courteous thing to do. Marc Fiarri had flat out said no to him and the more he thinks about it the angrier he gets.

After parking his bike and removing his helmet, Colt goes inside and heads straight to the shower. He’s careful with his fiddle in setting it down but everything else is slammed about as he prepares for and takes a shower.

Parts of his crotch are still crusted with his own cum. He scrubs himself clean. He brushes his teeth and rinses with a powerfully mint mouthwash, finally feeling like he’s removed the taste and scent of himself from his lips. Finally.

He pulls on a pair of cutoff sweatpants that are now shorts, frayed at his knees and a tank top and lets Emmitt inside after filling up his bowls with water and food.

Food might do him wonders too. He starts making himself a grilled cheese sandwich. While he’s cooking, he thinks through everything he wants to say to Marc and comes to a small conclusion.

They need time. Colt needs space to think.

It’s times like this when his emotions are all over the place, when the control he thought he had feels tenuous at best, when he has no time to sort things out and think things through in a proper fashion, that he wishes he drank it all away like his father did. Colt knows that he’s not a mean drunk like his father was. He’s scared of becoming that though.

He’s not so scared of it that he isn’t all too aware of the third of a bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter that Marc had left over here.

He knows it’s there. His gaze keeps slipping over to it again and again until he’s staring at it.

In the end he reaches out for the whiskey, unscrews the cap and takes a big gulp right out of the bottle. It burns as always and he’s making a face at the taste when he realizes he’s burning his sandwich. Colt sets the bottle down and quickly removes the pan from the burner.

This day. It’s one of those days.

Colt is scraping the burned bits off of the bread with a butter knife when he hears the roar of an engine outside. A glance through the window shows Marc getting out of his shiny blue sports car. There’s a moment where Colt thinks not to let him in or even answer the door, but that’s just rude.

He thinks through what he wants to say to Marc one more time. Before Marc even knocks, Colt pulls open the door and stands in the way. Any and all words leave him as Marc has a fresh cut on his lip and a bruised cut on his brow. Those wounds weren’t there earlier today.

“What the hell, Marc?” Colt steps aside, letting the other man inside and staring at him. He shuts the door. “What happened?”

Marc sets a new brown paper bag on the table and a bag of take out alongside it. His duffel bag goes to the floor. “Don’t worry. I gave more than I got.”

It’s the same thing he’s said before and Colt just shakes his head. “Who are you fighting with?”

“I think I’m fighting with you right now, Vanilla.”

Colt’s lips thin and he instinctively reaches out to put a hand on Marc’s forearm. “Seriously, Marc. Tell me what’s goin’ on. You can talk to me.”

All he can think is that someone is out there habitually beating Marc up and Colt can relate to that more than he cares to admit. But maybe admitting it will help Marc talk about it and get help.

“Hey...” He squeezes lightly where he’s holding Marc’s shoulder. “I’ve… I’ve been there, okay? I’ve been where you are right now and I know it’s hard to speak up or fight back-”

“Wait. Somebody beat you up?”

Colt thinks he’s getting somewhere and he quickly nods. “Yeah. Yeah they did. That’s why my nose is crooked. It’s been broken twice. I’ve had a dislocated jaw before. Broken wrists and ribs. I’ve been where you are.”

“Give me a name.”

This suddenly isn’t going how he planned. Marc doesn’t look like he’s about to have some miracle breakthrough. He looks like he wants to punch someone. He looks frightening.

Colt shakes his head. “I think I might’ve misunderstood.”

“Who beat you up?”

“Marc this isn’t about me. I’m just trying to let you know that you’re not alone.”

Marc leans in close and inhales. “You smell like whiskey.”

This isn’t going at all how he thinks it should. It’s almost dizzying; from anger to concern to frustration to confusion.

“I might’ve had a sip.” Colt gestures toward the bottle that he apparently forgot to put the cap back on. When he looks back at Marc, the man is grinning crookedly and Colt is only mildly disappointed that he feels himself grinning too. “I told you, it’s been a long day.”

Marc’s large hand cups the side of Colt’s face, thumb gently smoothing over the stubble there. “You can have more.”

“I don’t need more. Thanks though.”

“There’s always a need for more, more of everything.” He tilts his head toward the brown paper bag. “I brought more.”

Colt looks over to the bag and back to Marc. “Are you gonna tell me how you got the new bruises?”

“Are you gonna tell me who hit you?”

“I haven’t been hit in years. It’s the past.”

“So? I wanna know.”

“If I tell you will you tell me?”

Marc seems to think about this a moment, then he nods. “Deal.”

“It was my dad. He used to beat up on my mom and me a lot.”

“But you left.”

“As soon as I could.”

“And your mom?”

“I tried to bring her with me. She doesn’t wanna be saved. She… loves him for some reason.” Colt gets it. He used to love his dad too, parts of him still love his dad, parts of him still yearn for his dad to love him back. “She blamed me for his anger anyway. Said he got worse after me.”

Marc’s eyes narrow and he looks very dangerous again for just a brief moment. “My dad is an asshole too, but he didn’t do this to me. He’s never hit me.”

“Who did?”

“I do some side work for my uncle. Sometimes shit gets messy.” Marc shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

Colt steps back a bit, pulling his hand away from Marc’s shoulder and forcing Marc’s hand to slip away from his cheek. “Messy as in… you get beat up?”

“Sometimes I run into thugs who don’t like me.” Again, said like it’s not a big deal. “My uncle’s alright. He’s a hard ass but I’m learning a lot from him. I like working for him. If I keep doing work for him then my dad can retire and just do what he likes doing… working on cars and making my mom happy.”

“Do you not like workin’ on cars?”

“It’s okay. I wanna make more money and I can do that with my uncle.”

Colt nods slowly, taking in all of this new information. “So some random thugs did that to your face.”

“Not random, but yeah.” Marc says. “Kinda like how I wanna do a little bit more than this to your dad’s face.”

“I hope you never have to meet him.”

“Same, but with my family.”

Colt feels a kinship to Marc in this moment, almost forgetting how angry he had been earlier until Marc grabs a tumbler from the sink and pours it full almost to the rim of what’s left in the whiskey bottle. What’s left in the bottle, Marc downs and then he gives the full tumbler to Colt.

Colt takes a deep breath and remembers how he’d felt earlier today. “Marc, we need to talk.”

“You need to drink first. Normal people who’ve had a long day like you say you’ve had, they drink.” Marc makes a drink gesture with his hand and Colt lifts the glass to his lips to have another sip. Marc smirks. “A dainty little sip like that? More.”

Colt takes another sip but this time Marc’s index finger touches the bottom edge of the glass to hold it there, forcing Colt to take more or spill it. Colt is making that ridiculous face he makes when he drinks liquor by the end of it and Marc is grinning at him.

“Happy?” Colt asks.

“Yep. I brought you some food too. Which, it looks like you could use it with whatever burned crap that is right there.”

Colt puts the plate to the garbage can and lets his burned sandwich slide into it. “My attempt at dinner. I got distracted.” Distracted by whiskey. Distracted by Marc. Maybe the two are one and the same.

“Alright. So let’s eat and talk.”

They take the food and drinks to the coffee table and sit on the couch. Marc starts dolling out cartons of Chinese takeout. Out of the brown paper bag full of booze he grabs a bacon flavored bone and tosses it over to Emmitt. The Dane starts to chew on it happily.

Colt secretly likes that Marc thought of something for his dog.

“This is great. Thanks. I was starving.”

“Welcome. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Loaded question. There’s a lot on my mind and I can’t really make sense of all of it right now. But… what happened today… at the library...”

“Was hot… and necessary.”

Colt opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. “Okay maybe it was hot, I’m not gonna try to lie and say it wasn’t hot, but was it really necessary?”

“Yes.”

How does anyone argue with that? Colt shakes his head, takes a few bites and only speaks after he’s had a few moments to think. “You’re very intense, Marc. I don’t know if I’m ready-”

“You are. You’re ready for me.”

Colt sets his carton down and turns to face Marc. “I don’t even know what this is between us. I barely know you! You barely know me. It’s...”

“It’s meant to be. From the second I saw you performing, I knew.” Marc hands Colt the half full tumbler from the table, not giving him an option but to take it. “I’m gonna fuck you up, Vanilla. And you’re gonna love every minute of it.”

“If you fuck me up then I won’t be vanilla anymore. You said you liked vanilla, remember?” Colt tries to logic through the illogical. “What will you do then, throw me to the curb?”

“No one’s throwing you to the curb. You’re mine.”

“Yours?”

“Since the moment I saw you.”

“When did you see me?”

“About three months ago. I’d had a shitty day and I was getting some beers. Your band was playing that night. I couldn’t look away. You were the only good thing about that day.”

“We only met about a month ago.”

“Yeah… it took me awhile to figure out how to go at you. You’re different from most people in my circle, alright?” Marc says. “Then that night you were right by me at the bar and we kept talking and I knew I’d been right.”

“Have you always liked guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Does your family know?”

“Yeah. My parents don’t like it, but they can’t say much since my uncle, my dad’s brother, he’s the same as me.” He smirks and shakes his head. “They get on me for liking who I like and my uncle finds out about it? Ain’t nobody gonna cross my uncle… not if they know what’s good for them.”

“He sounds dangerous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Are you dangerous?”

Marc answers with a noncommittal shrug and taps the glass in Colt’s hand. Colt, deep in thought, takes a drink while he chooses his next words as carefully as possible.

“I’ve never been attracted to men before, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just... I’m not gay, Marc.”

That makes Marc grin crookedly as he studies Colt and Colt can feel his chest grow tight again at the sight of it. Why does that smile make all the sharp, rough edges of whatever’s happening here melt away?

“You’re not, huh?” Marc asks.

Colt shakes his head and takes a deep breath before choosing to take another drink of the whiskey left in his glass. His nose wrinkles at the taste until he feels Marc’s index finger sliding down the bridge of it.

“Crooked nose. I never noticed it before.” Marc says. “I hate that asshole of a father you had. I hate what he did to you. But I like your crooked nose.”

His nose has always been one of his insecurities because of the way it set after the second break. Colt doesn’t want to be glad that Marc likes his imperfect nose, but he is. Somewhere deep down, he’s glad.

“You don’t have to put any label on what this is, alright? Fuck labels.”

“It’s confusing.”

“For you.”

Colt nods. “For me. And I don’t want to lead you on in any way.”

“You’re not. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me keep being the brave one for both of us, yeah?”

“I don’t know if that’s fair to either of us.”

“I say it is.”

“Oh, well if you say it is.” Colt resorts to sarcasm in the face of the direction this conversation has gone.

Marc grins and pulls back from Colt to reach into the paper bag and grab a new bottle of whiskey.

As Colt watches Marc fill his tumbler full again, he wonders if Marc has really listened to a word he’s said tonight or if Colt just got steamrolled into acquiescence.

Nothing feels resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you

Colt doesn’t sleep well that night. After dinner and a few more drinks, Marc and he had watched more Netflix. Eventually they had kissed and Colt can’t say that he didn’t enjoy it. They wound up in his bed this time instead of on the couch. With everything unresolved, his body drowning in the aftereffects of whiskey and his thoughts and feelings still in flux, his mind never fully shuts off.

When he’s asleep he dreams about his childhood, the horrors of it; his mom’s constant crying and his dad’s ever present anger. How his mom could love anyone like his dad, Colt has no idea. He dreams of fists and hard objects slamming into his body. He dreams of all the lies he had to tell social workers and EMT’s out of fear of more retaliation from his father and how no one ever saw through them to the truth.

When he’s awake, he thinks about the man in his bed with him, holding him tightly even in his sleep as if he’s afraid Colt might slip away from him.

There’s a man in bed with him. No matter who it is, even that simple truth is something shocking to Colt. The couch had seemed innocent enough. Even if nothing has happened beyond kissing, the bed is different. It’s more personal. It’s more intimate.

He thinks about their conversation the night before.

Colt isn’t stupid. He gets the implication that whatever business Marc’s uncle is involved in isn’t on the up and up. He gets that Marc’s dad was involved in that business and that Marc has now taken his place. He gets that it’s dangerous. Colt wonders if he can convince Marc that being a mechanic with his dad is better than getting himself beat up or worse.

Three months. Marc had been watching him for two months before Colt had ever seen him, before they ever said a word to each other. That’s weird, isn’t it? It isn’t normal. Then again, none of this is normal for Colt. Maybe he’s reading too much into it.

There’s no denying that it felt good to be held on the couch, to have someone there to hang out with. There’s no denying that he likes kissing Marc or that it feels good and warm to be held while laying here. What happened at the library scared him. Anything more than that scares him.

Is he attracted to Marc? Marc is attractive. He’s charismatic with a confident swagger about him that’s hard to ignore. But is Colt attracted to him? He thinks about that crooked grin and he has to admit that yes, on some level Colt is attracted to Marc. It’s a strange feeling to acknowledge that, even in the privacy of his own mind. He has no idea what to do with that attraction.

With Marc comes an added edge of danger, unpredictability and pushiness, an intensity that diminishes Colt in some ways. Colt would be stupid to ignore all of that.

Marc’s arm shifts around his waist, pulling him even closer, holding him even tighter, as if Marc can read Colt’s thoughts and knows he’s thinking about him.

Colt lies very still, waiting to make sure that Marc will go back to sleep. However, after a full minute’s worth, Marc stirs even more.

“I can tell you’re awake, Vanilla.”

“I think I’m still drunk.” Colt glances at the clock on his bedside table. “And I have to get up to get ready for work in less than an hour.”

Marc yawns, speaking through the act. “I’ve always heard that the best solution for that is to get re-drunk.”

Colt smirks. “Re-drunk? Really?”

“Really.”

Colt feels Marc’s lips nuzzle at his neck and shoulder. It’s a warm, intimate touch and Colt’s skin prickles to life. It’s over too soon as Marc leaves the bed and the bedroom. When he returns, Colt can barely make out a bottle in his hand.

“You can’t be serious, Marc.”

“Serious as fuck. We’re gonna get you ready for work.”

Marc crawls back onto the bed, slips partially back beneath the bed sheets before straddling Colt.

Colt looks up at the dark shadow of the man on top of him. “I don’t think there’s science to back up this method of yours. Also, I don’t wanna be drunk at work.”

“You wanna be hungover at work?”

Colt thinks about that a moment before shaking his head. “No.”

“Trust me. It’s science.” Marc leans down over Colt and puts the opening of the bottle to his lips, slowly starting to tilt it at the right angle. “Drink, Vanilla.”

Colt’s lips part just in time to catch the amber liquid before it spills. He drinks until Marc quits pouring, just a half a shot’s worth. Then Marc tilts the bottle again and Colt quickly drinks again. This happens a few more times, Colt letting Marc feed him whiskey, until Colt puts a hand on Marc’s wrist to stop him. Marc takes a drink from the bottle and then sets the bottle on the nightstand.

“Give it a minute.” Marc says, remaining on top of Colt, his fingertip runs along the bridge of Colt’s nose. “It’s dark as fuck in here so I can’t see it, but I can imagine that stupid face you make after drinking whiskey. You’re so damn vanilla.”

Colt laughs a bit, a sleepy and still drunk sort of laugh. “I want you to say my name. You always call me Vanilla. Say my name, Marc.”

Marc shifts his hips once over Colt’s groin. The sudden movement and friction there makes Colt gasp in a breath of air. Marc leans down over him and kisses him. Colt kisses Marc back.

“Colt Jackson.” Marc says, rocking his hips again, this time pressing his cock against Colt’s, only the thin cotton layers of their clothes separating them.

Colt grips Marc’s arms. “Marc. Not yet… please. I’m not ready.”

Marc grinds against him again. “I already touched your cock, Colt.”

“I know.” Colt whispers, memories of the library incident suddenly vivid in his mind.

Again, there’s that press and grind and Colt’s body instinctively pushes up toward it.

“We’re not even touching now. No skin on skin.”

“I know.” Colt whispers again, the words more breathy this time.

Marc kisses him again and Colt’s lips part to kiss the other man in return. He feels Marc grinding against him again, and again, and again. He hears himself make some kind of sound into Marc’s mouth as they kiss. He sounds wanting and needy even to himself. His entire body is screaming yes while his mind is still on the fence.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Colt can’t say that it doesn’t feel good. It feels amazing. He’s so close to completion that he doesn’t want it to stop. He also wants it to stop. He isn’t ready.

Marc’s tongue slides up the side of his neck and Colt finds that that drives him wild. He emits another wanton sound as Marc whispers into his ear and continues to dry hump them together.

“Admit it, Colt. It feels good.”

“Yes.” He hears himself breathe the word out as the world thins to nothing but this space and this act and the man on top of him.

“Come on, Vanilla. Let go. Let yourself feel it.” Marc says softly.

Colt can feel Marc tense and shudder, can smell the scent of sex. Marc’s movements become momentarily stiff, but he never stops, never lets up, and eventually his hips move languidly again.

Colt lets go. His hands slip down to Marc’s waist as his hips press up against the other man, matching his movements until he reaches his own orgasm, spilling in his sweat pants.

Marc is kissing him again. Colt kisses him in return, surprised and slightly embarrassed about what just happened no matter how good it felt. Then he feels the bottle at his lips again and he doesn’t even think twice about drinking more as Marc slowly pours whiskey into his mouth. His nose still wrinkles afterward and Marc kisses the tip of his nose in the dark.

**

Colt is re-drunk at work. He has no idea if there’s really any science behind it, but what he does know is that he feels good, a lot better than he thought he would before Marc had poured more whiskey down his throat. He worries about whether his co-workers can tell that he’s drunk, but none of them have said anything yet and it’s almost lunch time.

All morning he’s been nursing water, trying to slowly sober up and hydrate himself. This is the smart move, he thinks.

Today is a half-day. He’s supposed to leave at lunch and go coach his little league team in the tournament. Colt isn’t sure he’s up to it. He loves coaching those kids. Today he’s… off his game. At least that’s how he feels.

Today all he can think about is Marc Fiarri.

He thinks about what they’d done this morning. It wasn’t bad. All clothes were on the entire time. He isn’t in so deep that he can’t get out if he really wants to… right? He can’t quit thinking about how it had felt to be with Marc like that. It makes him hard to think about it. He’s been hard all morning.

Colt chews on a pen cap and tries to focus on entering book returns into a computer.

He thinks about how after his shower and getting dressed, Marc had been waiting in the living room for him. He thinks about how Marc had kissed him and kissed him, fed him another shot of whiskey and kissed him again. He thinks about how Marc’s hand lingered at his back as they’d said goodbye. Colt had left Marc at his house. It’s the first time Marc has been there without him.

Colt checks his phone for messages. There are none. He tries to focus on work again, shifting the pen cap to the other side of his mouth.

He thinks about how rock hard Marc’s abs had felt through his shirt when Colt had let himself touch him this morning. Just how built is Marc? For all their messing around, they’ve never seen each other naked. They’ve never been naked together. Colt is surprised that he wants to know what Marc’s abs look like. He’d felt them. He wants to see them.

He drops the pen cap in the trash and takes another sip of water, briefly thinking he wished it was whiskey. Is it possible for him to stay drunk until he has time to sleep it off?

No, water is the responsible choice right now. Colt is responsible. Colt needs to be responsible.

He drinks more water and then gets back to work.

**

It’s nothing short of a miracle when Colt makes it through the game and the celebratory ice cream run after their win. He finds that it’s not that much different than putting on a personality during one of the Drunk Wizard’s shows. It gets him through it. No one seems to get that he’s faking it and Colt feels like he’s dodged a bullet.

The problem with running on a fake high for other people’s benefit is that the drop afterward is severe.

The blue sports car is nowhere in sight when he pulls onto his street. Marc isn’t here. He’s both relieved and disappointed at his absence.

Colt pulls into his drive and shuts off his bike and just sits there for awhile. There’s a few birds chirping. He can hear Emmitt barking in the back yard, the Dane having heard the motor of his bike. The sound of traffic not too far away is a constant hum.

Otherwise, Colt just lets himself sit there for a long time in the relative stillness and quiet.

When he finally makes his way inside he instantly notices a few differences. There are several bottles of alcohol on the kitchen counter. His shabby kitchen table has been replaced with a newer, sleeker table and chairs. His old TV has been updated to a newer and bigger television.

Marc.

After feeding Emmitt and petting/playing with him for awhile, Colt goes to the kitchen and finds a new, bigger fridge. There’s a note on the fridge: dinner, 2nd shelf. Colt stares at it for a long moment before opening it and finding the entire top shelf taken up with various beers. The other shelves and drawers are full of fresh food.

Dinner turns out to be a steak that he has to reheat and some veggies. Colt doesn’t have the energy to overthink it. He reheats the food and sits on his couch to eat it.

Emmitt is laying on his pillowed bed gnawing at a fresh bacon chew bone. Tied around the chew bone is a bandanna that used to be red, faded to a strange orange pink color, covered in grease, oil and Colt suspects, his own cum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Saturday is uneventful. Colt spends the day holed up at home. He watches some TV. He gets his violin out of its case and he plays for a long while, missing the feel of it, the sound of it, the way playing it brings out the best version of himself.

There had been a time, years ago, when Colt had found such solace in the beauty of this instrument. Music was something he was good at. While everything else in his world had sucked beyond the telling of it, this, the relationship between himself and his violin, was beautiful. It was something his father had never been able to bruise and fracture. Hearing him play was the only time his mother ever looked like she was proud of him.

It isn’t too far of a stretch to say that music saved his life, that it changed his life. But then that’s the power of music, isn’t it? Music can move mountains.

Other stringed instruments came later for him, but the violin came first. The violin is like coming home, it’s a reset.

He plays well into the evening until the sun is going down, losing track of time and not caring about anything else.

Saturday comes and goes.

Sunday morning he goes to church as he always does. He’s there but he doesn’t really listen today. He thinks that sometimes just showing up has to be good enough for God. It’s all he has to give the Almighty right now.

He works in the front and back yards of his house the rest of Sunday, pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. It feels good to do normal things.

Alone.

It feels good to be alone.

It takes him a full week to start feeling more like himself again, to quit thinking about Marc every two seconds, to quit looking at the bottles of alcohol and wanting to taste them, to quit feeling so outside of and unlike himself that he’s unrecognizable.

He almost calls or texts Marc several times that week. In the end he makes himself leave it alone.

His little league team loses the semi finals the next weekend. They go out for celebratory ice cream anyway. Colt gives them all their end of season trophies and hugs them all goodbye. He chats with their parents and tells them he hopes to see their kiddos next season.

The next Saturday, now with not much to do and his mind mostly back where it should be, Colt takes stock. He wonders where his crappy table and chairs went. He wonders where his fridge that had been on its last leg went. His old TV was fine. He didn’t need a newer, bigger TV. He wonders what made Marc think it was okay to change all this stuff in his house without asking him.

A knock at the door startles him and when he answers it, a cheery woman is handing him a bouquet of black roses in an opaque red glass vase. Colt thanks her and takes them inside to set them on the new table.

Where does someone even find black roses?

The attached note reads: Busy working for a few more days. Thinking about you, Vanilla. - Marc

Everywhere Colt looks, there’s a reminder of Marc. Colt decides that he needs to get out for awhile.

He goes out to his bike and heads to a bar for some nameless, faceless company. There’s a live band playing tonight and while they’re newer than his band, he’s heard of them and is happy to listen and enjoy their music.

He’s standing there, water in hand, enjoying the performance when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns to see one of the girls that’s usually at Drunk Wizards performances. She’s a fan. She follows them around from bar to bar and gig to gig so she’s easily recognizable.

Colt puts on a big smile for her and they hug and say their hello’s while he’s trying to remember her name.

“It’s Dana, right?” He asks.

“Close! It’s Deanna.”

“Ahhh almost.” He gestures to the band on stage. “Not bad, huh?”

“Well they’re no Drunk Wizards.” Deanna says. “Wanna dance?”

“Yeah, let’s dance.”

It feels good to dance. Colt had never enjoyed dancing until recently when he hit that age that he quit caring whether he looks stupid or not and just allows himself to have fun. He and Deanna dance several songs together, maybe three or four, and then she leans up and kisses him.

Colt looks at her, surprised, and then he kisses her too. He’s had relationships with women before and this feels natural and easy and right.

Except… not completely right.

Colt pulls back and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no. Was it bad?” Deanna asks. “I thought it was great.”

“No, no it’s… that was a great kiss and you’re very attractive. It’s just that...”

“You’re seeing someone.”

Colt pauses. Is he seeing someone? “Kind of.”

“That’s okay! I should have asked. And of course you’re seeing someone. You’re hot. She’s lucky, whoever she is.”

He’s relieved that she seems to be handling it okay. He messed up. He shouldn’t have kissed her back. Colt has never been the kind of guy to be with more than one person at a time and he has no idea if he’s even really ‘with’ Marc. “Thanks. You’re hot too. Things are just… complicated right now.”

“Complicated is kind of my M.O. when it comes to men.” Deanna jokes. “I totally get it as a relationship status.”

Colt isn’t sure that anyone could ‘get’ the mess that is himself and Marc Fiarri. He laughs at the joke anyway and they fall into companionable conversation and enjoy the rest of the night together.

**

Every day the following week a black rose is delivered to his house, to the library, sitting on the seat of his bike when it’s parked somewhere. Every day Colt brings them inside and adds them to the bouquet, replacing wilted flowers with the new ones. He can’t help but think that they look strange and beautiful and wrong at the same time.

Black roses. Who came up with that idea?

By the end of the week the black roses have grown on him. He admires them every day when he passes by the table.

It’s been three weeks since Colt has seen Marc. It doesn’t feel like the other man has been absent from his life though. Between the new additions to his home and the roses, Colt feels Marc’s presence as surely as if he were just at work at the garage or for his uncle and would make an appearance later in the evening.

On the way home from work one day, his bike made a strange noise. He’s glad to have made it home, but Colt is in his drive working on his bike when he hears the increasingly familiar roar of the engine of Marc’s car slow to a stop in front of his house.

Colt pushes himself up from the concrete and stands, watching Marc exit his car and wondering what bruises he’ll find on him this time. The bruises really affect him more than he cares to admit. The bruises tilt his world on its axis, putting him partly in the present and partly in the past. He wishes the past would stay in the past.

Nerves roil in his stomach at the sight of Marc. Things just recently leveled back out for him. He has a feeling that Marc will stir things back up. On the other hand, there’s a part of him that’s undeniably, irrefutably glad to see him. Seeing Marc stirs up memories of the library and their last and only night together in his bed.

There are no bruises this time, not that he can see right away. There’s a bandage on Marc’s neck that Colt’s eyes are drawn to as the other man approaches.

“Aw look at you, Vanilla. Worried about me. I’m fine.” Marc reaches him and puts a hand on Colt’s waist, leaning in to brush their lips together.

Colt leans back and looks around at his neighbors houses. What if someone sees? He’s not ready for someone to see… whatever this is with Marc.

“What happened?” He asks.

Marc seems unaffected by Colt’s pulling away from him. “Knife got a little too close for comfort. Takes a lot more to kill a Fiarri though. We’re tough.”

Colt wants to scream that Marc shouldn’t be in a position to be killed anyway. The words get lodged in his throat. He remembers losing so many words to his parents this way, overthinking them and worrying over them to the point that he just remains silent.

“Something wrong with your bike?” Marc asks.

“Yeah, engine was making a gurgling sound. Thought I’d tighten things up and see if that fixes it.”

“I’ll look at it.”

Colt almost tells Marc no, but then decides it might be good for Marc to do the work he knows how to do. Colt can applaud him for it and maybe start trying to steer him away from the more dangerous stuff his uncle is having him do. Colt has never thought of himself as a manipulative person before, but right now this is what he feels he needs to do.

“You get the flowers?”

“Yeah, thanks. That was sweet.” He had to explain them away when he got the single roses at work, but the thought was still sweet. “I don’t think anyone’s ever got me flowers before.”

“Another first. I’m racking them up, slowly but surely.” Marc grins and Colt’s heart skips a beat at the lopsidedness of it.

“Hey. The new stuff in the house. I didn’t need it. I mean, you didn’t have to...”

“I know. I wanted to. And there’s more where that came from. I got a huge pay day for this last job.”

Colt shakes his head. “Marc, you don’t have to spend your money on me. I don’t need-”

Marc grabs Colt’s hand, quickly and tightly. “I want to.” When Colt tries to pull his hand away, Marc holds on tighter. “Let me.”

Colt watches Marc in quiet for a moment and then nods, words caught in his throat again.

Marc lets go of his hand and whatever tension was in the moment eases into something familiar and teasing, playful even. “I’ll look at your bike for you. Maybe you get us some dinner going… and don’t burn it this time.”

As he goes inside, Colt can still feel how tightly Marc had held onto his hand.

Dinner is cooked without burning a single thing. Colt made them chicken srir-fry, one of his favorite recipes he’s learned since leaving home. He actually likes cooking. He likes it for the simple fact that he can do it. He has money for groceries and can make all kinds of things that he never had when he was a kid. He was raised on spaghettio’s and whatever the cheapest canned or microwaved meal was that week. Sometimes there was no food at all.

He’s pleased when Marc seems surprised that he can cook without burning anything. He listens to Marc explain the tune ups he’d performed on his bike. Marc says he’ll order a new part that looks like it’s the issue but it should be fine until the part gets in.

When Colt offers to pay for it Marc won’t even entertain the idea. Colt lets it go for now.

“So what kind of work were you doin’?” Colt asks curiously. They’re out in the back yard, throwing a ball for Emmitt.

“Details aren’t important.” Marc says. “I’m back now and fuck did I miss you. I thought about you the whole time. You worry about me getting beat up while I’m gone. I worry about you too.”

“There’s nothin’ to worry about with me. I’m not gettin’ into fights.”

“Shit could happen to you when I’m gone. I don’t like thinking about it, but I do. It goes round and round in my head and I can’t quit thinking about it.”

Colt isn’t sure that he’s ever had anyone worry over him. His parents didn’t. His friends from the band might if they were given an obvious reason for it. The library co-workers would only worry if he didn’t show up for a few days. Marc sounds as if he actually worries about him and that makes Colt feel warm and good.

“Hey.” Colt reaches out to touch Marc’s arm. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m fine. Most days I go from the library to here and that’s it.”

“Do you wanna work at the library?”

Colt shrugs, letting his hand drop at the change of topic. He picks up the ball and throws it again. Emmitt runs after it. “It’s a job. If I have to have a job, I like one where I’m surrounded by books and I can read in the downtime.”

“What would you do if you could be doing anything?”

After some consideration, Colt decides it won’t hurt to talk about things that will never be. Everyone wishes things just for the fun of wishing, knowing that they may never happen. “I used to wanna be a music teacher, like the teacher that introduced me to music. I used to wanna do that.”

“What happened?”

“You have to have money to go to college. I had only a little bit of money and I chose to use what little I had on getting away from where I was. Money after that was spent on building this life.” Colt says. “What about you? If you could be doing anything you wanted, what would you do?”

“You.” Marc grins and picks up Emmitt’s ball to throw it.

Colt smirks. “Seriously.”

“I’d be my uncle. He has all the power, all the money, gets everything he wants. I wanna live like that. I wanna be top dog and nobody dare question me… even my dad. He’s always questioning me. I hate that. He doesn’t get that I learned half the shit I do from watching him.” Marc shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I know he loves me. He wants better for me. But this is what Fiarri’s do. There’s nothing else.”

“You mean you’re stuck working for your uncle.”

“I like working for him. He’s straight forward, no bullshit. I think he’s preparing me to advance in the ranks too.” Marc turns to Colt and takes one of his hands again. “If I get to be even close to the badass he is, that’s good for you too. I’ll take care of you and you won’t want for anything. I’ll use my power to give you anything you want.”

The passion in which Marc says these things surprises Colt. He remembers the kiss with Deanna and the following awkwardness where he couldn’t figure out where he stood with Marc. “Marc, what is this? Us. What’s happening here?”

“We’re together, Vanilla. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Marc says. “What more do you need to know?”

“You’re not seeing other people?”

Marc shakes his head. “There was never anybody else the second I saw you. There’s no one else for you either. Trust me. You won’t find better than me.”

A part of Colt resents that Marc would just assume. He tries to make a joke out of it. “Oh you think so, huh?”

Marc’s other hand grabs Colt’s chin, making sure that they’re looking at each other. Colt is surprised to find that dangerous look in Marc’s eyes, the same look when Marc had learned that someone in Colt’s past had beat on him. “I know so. And if someone tried, I’d kill them.”

Colt holds his breath at those words. The promise of them magnifies that in-between place that Marc sometimes puts him in. The past and the present collide until Colt just wants to agree and back off to keep the peace. 

The moment spreads out between them until Marc turns off his dangerous edge like a light switch. That lopsided grin is back and his grip on Colt’s chin turns into a gentle caress along his jawline.

“We’re together, you and me.” Marc says, his hand sliding around to cup the back of Colt’s neck. “You’re mine, Colt.”

Marc’s brow is resting against his, waiting for Colt. The back of his neck is squeezed several times before Colt responds with a nod. “We’re together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you

The Drunk Wizards are playing a show that Friday night. The place is packed and Colt is all too happy to get lost in the music again after their short break. The first set goes smoothly. The place is so alive and electric that Sam thinks about extending the set for a few songs more but then belatedly decides to break. Colt doesn’t see Marc sitting at the bar yet so he goes backstage with the band.

They tell each other what they did during their break and Colt enjoys hearing everyone’s stories until they go their separate ways for a few minutes. Colt takes a bathroom break and then returns to tune his fiddle a bit.

“Hey, Colt. You good with ending the night on the new song with that bit that showcases you?” Sam asks him, sipping on a beer in his hand.

“Yeah, I’m good with it. I’d love it, actually.” Colt says. “And hey, thanks for making me feel a bit more like I’m a part of everything.”

“Dude. You’re a huge part. Don’t ever think you aren’t. We ever start making real money doing this, I want you to be full time with us. I’m only sad we can’t pay you like you’re full time right the fuck now.”

They step out on stage to a few whoops and hollers from the crowd. Colt leans in to speak to Sam. “I love doin’ this, man. It’s the closest I can get to my dream. I’d do it for nothin’ if I had to.”

Sam gives Colt a thousand-watt smile and embraces him hard. “We really lucked out finding you, man. Just stick with us and we’ll start making bank, alright?”

Colt nods and the other members of the band join them on the stage. The second set is even better than the first. The crowd goes nuts when Sam calls him out in the last song with a resounding “Colt Jackson on the fiddle, let’s hear it!”

Amid screams from the bar, Colt steps forward and plays his heart out with Danny on the drums keeping beat. It’s amazing.

He’s flying. Colt is flying when all is said and done. It’s hard to explain how it feels, doing something you love and getting the reaction the Drunk Wizard fans give them. It’s like he’s on top of the world, looking down at himself and the crowded bar and the world at large. It’s an adrenaline rush. It’s like nothing can touch him.

Colt has just strapped his fiddle into its case when he sees Marc approaching him. He’s surprised at how the sight of Marc only magnifies the moment for him. He’s glad to see him. He wants to see him.

He’s riding high on his adrenaline rush and he grabs Marc’s hand and leads him out to the back alleyway. He looks both ways to make sure they’re alone, then he turns and kisses the other man. It’s the first time he’s ever initiated anything between the two of them.

Marc turns them so that Colt is shoved against the bricked side of the building. Colt thought he had the upper hand in the kiss, but now it’s clear that Marc has taken that from him. The other man is devouring him, teeth bite into the flesh of his lips and Colt’s shoulders scrape against the rough brick.

“Touch me.” Colt whispers against Marc’s lips. “Like you did in the library.”

“You want me, Vanilla?” Marc asks, fingers already pulling at the fly of Colt’s jeans.

“Yes. Yeah. I want you to touch me.” Colt is aware enough to go very still when the alleyway door opens and another couple pours out, obviously drunk and having fun with one another. They never see Colt and Marc as they slowly amble in the opposite direction, kissing at one another and pausing at another spot in the alleyway.

Colt is distracted enough not to have seen Marc go down on his knees.

Suddenly his cock is surrounded with warmth and wet. Colt looks down to see Marc sucking him off and Colt thinks this is everything he needed and wanted right now and also not what he wanted at all. Marc keeps pushing boundaries with him. A part of the blame is on himself too because Colt knows that he keeps letting Marc push those boundaries.

It feels too good, so good that the surprise of it wears off and Colt just wants Marc to continue. He watches, fascinated as the man gives him an amazing blow job, possibly the best he’s ever had.

His palm smooths back over the buzz cut on top of Marc’s head and he doesn’t look away, mesmerized by the sight of it, by the shock of it, by the hint of danger to it. Colt tastes blood in his mouth where Marc had bit at his lip.

He can vaguely hear the other couple not too far away. As his own pleasure reaches extreme heights, he finally looks down the alleyway to see the silhouette of a man fucking a woman against the brick wall. Colt bites down on his bottom lip hard, drawing more blood to keep himself from crying out as he arches away from the brick wall and spills into Marc’s mouth. He has no idea how he keeps himself from crying out when he feels like he’s imploding from the inside out with such intense orgasm.

Marc is kissing him again and passing some of Colt’s own spunk into his mouth. He can taste himself and that’s something new. Colt swallows it down and continues to kiss Marc.

As his mind starts to come back to him, he glances down the alleyway.

“Stay with me. They don’t even see us. You’re fine.” Marc takes one of Colt’s hands and helps him to hold onto his cock. He’s opened his fly and now Colt is touching him. He’s touching another man’s privates.

Colt starts to say something, but Marc shushes him. “Shhhh… come on, Colt. Like the library. You can do it. I want you to do it.”

Is he ready for this? No. Was he ready for a blow job? No. How can he say no after what just happened? After what Marc had just done to him?

Colt’s fingers curl to feel the girth of him. Marc is big, bigger than Colt is. It feels strange. Slowly, he starts to jerk him off, his hand working in the same way he’s given himself pleasure before.

“Ah, yeah, baby. Harder. Faster.” Marc whispers.

The woman down the alleyway groans and the man calls her beautiful. Colt goes still, his gaze snapping over to those shadows. What if they see him? What if they know?

Marc’s hand rests over his again, a gentle guide to get his hand working again.

“Look at me.”

Colt looks back to Marc.

“We’re together. Just like they’re together. Fuck ‘em. Stay with me, Vanilla.”

Colt stares into those dark eyes and continues to get Marc off, harder and faster, just like Marc had said. It’s easy and not easy at all. But as Marc’s breath quickens and he leans in to press their cheeks together, as Colt starts to see the reaction Marc gives him, his concerns quit getting in the way and he just lets himself get Marc off. 

He’s making tough as nails Marc Fiarri lose his breath, make quiet whimpering sounds; he’s making Marc Fiarri’s whole body quiver with pleasure. 

That’s power, Colt thinks. It’s the only power that Marc has allowed him and Colt starts to revel in it.

Marc whispers his name followed by a muted groan into Colt’s ear, then he slaps a palm against the brick behind Colt and Colt feels the wet of Marc’s spill coat his palm.

He just got a blow job and gave a hand job… with Marc Fiarri.

If his dad could see him right now he wouldn’t just beat the shit out of him, he’d beat him to death. Colt thinks that Marc would kill his dad before that could happen. How fucked up is it that that makes Colt feel safe?

Colt’s hand is still shoved in Marc’s pants. The other couple is heading back inside. Marc, shifts so that he’s in between Colt and them, shielding him in case the other couple notices the two of them. Colt is thankful for that. It’s the protective things like that that endear Colt even more to Marc.

He has no idea if they were seen. He doesn’t want to know.

They’re kissing again. Colt is glad for it because he needs a minute.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Colt finally speaks. “Well, I can believe it because it happened, but...”

“Two more firsts that are mine, yeah?”

“I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex and blow jobs before.” Colt says. “But… not like this and not with a guy. So yeah… two more firsts that are yours.”

“Good.” Marc pulls his tee over his head so that he’s just wearing the white tank beneath. He uses the tee to clean off Colt’s hand.

Colt is looking at the pronounced muscles of Marc’s arms, outlined by the dim light of a streetlight not too far away. “I never saw you come in tonight. I was watching...”

“I was here the whole second half.”

“Did you see the song where I got a feature?”

“The last one? Yeah. You did good, Vanilla.”

“It was amazing.” Colt is so excited to talk about it, the words start pouring out of him. “When Sam said he was gonna give me some time to shine I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He’s promised there’ll be more of it and that maybe I’ll be a full-time band member someday.”

Marc flings his cum covered shirt over his shoulder. “Sam’s the lead singer? I think he has a thing for you.”

“What? No. He’s not… he’s not gay.”

“Like you’re not gay?”

Colt’s eyes narrow at Marc, the excitement deflating out of him. “What are you gettin’ at?”

“Just watch him, Colt. He keeps hugging you the way he hugged you on stage earlier tonight in front of everybody like he owns you? I might bash his face in myself.”

Colt just stares after Marc as the other man goes to the door to the club and holds it open. Sam hugged him like he owns him? No, he really hadn’t. Sam is his friend, that’s all.

“Come on.”

Colt shakes his head. “You go ahead. I need a minute.”

“I’m not leaving you in a dark alley alone. Get your ass over here.”

There’s a moment where Colt thinks he might fight it out, but his history doesn’t lend itself to fighting. In the end, he pushes away from the wall and follows Marc inside.

**

That night at Colt’s house, Marc opens a new bottle of whiskey and starts drinking from it. He pours Colt a glass, about two shots worth, and hands it to him. “I can tell you’re mad at me. What’s going on, Vanilla?”

Colt looks down into the glass and sets it on the table without drinking it before going into the bedroom. He’s been stewing for a couple of hours now and he’s trying to be brave enough to say something about what’s bothering him. “Look, I don’t wanna fight, but I don’t think you’re right about Sam and I don’t like you threatening him.”

Marc leans back against the wall inside the bedroom, the bottle in one hand and the glass he poured in the other.

Colt walks past him into the bathroom with clothes to change into. The ones he wore out smell like smoke. He leaves the bathroom door cracked so he can continue talking while he changes. “You can’t do that, Marc. Normal people don’t threaten to bash other people’s faces in.”

“You can’t blame me for being jealous.” There’s a tap at the door as Colt pulls up his cutoff sweatpants. The tap had a slight push to it that lets Marc look in. “I mean look at you.”

“Thanks for the compliment but there’s nothin’ to be jealous of.” Colt realizes that Marc is staring at his abdomen and looks down, reminded of the scar there. Colt’s stomach is flat but there’s no way he has the abs he suspects Marc has. Just above his left hipbone there’s seven inches of scar tissue. “It’s from a long time ago.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. Look at me, Marc.” When Marc looks up at him, Colt continues. “I’ve done things with you that I’m still grappling with. One minute I think I’m okay with us and the next I’m wondering what the hell I’m doin’. Tonight after the last set there was only one person I wanted to celebrate with. It wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t anybody else but you.”

That crooked smile twists at Marc’s lips. “Yeah?

“Yeah. It surprised me too. When I saw you after the show I was just like… yes, this is what I want right now.” Colt continues. “Of course, it didn’t go how I planned cause then you did what you did and I did what I did… but there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“What did you have planned?”

“A repeat of the library, which is probably boring to you.”

“Touching you is never boring.” Marc steps closer to Colt and runs a thumb along the scar above his left hip bone. The touch feels good and emphasizes the fact that Colt isn’t wearing a shirt right now. “Now drink with me.”

Colt takes the glass from Marc. “Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“Why?”

“Because when you do what I say, good things happen.”

Marc kisses him then and Colt leans into it chasing for more, only Marc suddenly steps backward and away. The way the other man looks at him, Colt knows that he’s waiting patiently, or not so patiently, for Colt to do what he’s told.

Colt lifts the glass to his lips and drinks. His nose instantly wrinkles. Marc looks pleased as he steps closer to Colt again and sets his bottle on the bathroom counter. He slips his hand beneath the waistband of Colt’s sweatpants and starts to give him his repeat of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

There are clothes in his closet that don’t belong to him. When he’d opened the closet after a bad day of work, Colt had found that half of his closet is filled with Marc’s clothing. Further inspection shows that his bureau and a few of the drawers in the bathroom have been reorganized and filled with Marc’s things as well. He’s fine with that, he supposes. It means Marc will be here even more. Maybe it even means that Marc is moving in.

Maybe he should be upset that he wasn’t consulted, but he doesn’t have the brain power or the energy for it right now.

Colt will be here more often as well. He was fired from the library today.

His boss’s excuse was that they were overstaffed, but the man had let Colt work a full day before dropping the gauntlet and that doesn’t sit well with him. On top of that, he got the feeling that there was something his boss wasn’t saying. Maybe he noticed Colt had been drunk at work that one day. Maybe…

Whatever. It happened.

It was sudden and unexpected and now Colt has to find another source of income. His cut from playing with the Drunk Wizards isn’t enough to live off of.

Colt changes clothes and plops down on his bed, just laying there looking at the ceiling. When he’d gone into work today he’d never imagined that it would be his last day. He knows he was damn lucky to get that job. Most of the library employees have degrees of some sort. Colt has nothing but a love of books. His job prospects now are probably not as fitting for him as the library had been. He’d do whatever it takes though, just like he’s always done. He’ll figure it out.

He wants to tell someone about it and the only person he thinks of is Marc. Colt grabs his phone and texts him.

 **Colt:** I was fired from the library today.

 **Marc:** They say why?

 **Colt:** Overstaffed. But they haven’t hired anyone new in a long time. I don’t know, it was confusing.

 **Marc:** Fuck them. I’ll be home later.

When he hears the rumble of Marc’s car pull up, Colt is in the kitchen cooking dinner. He hears Marc come into the house. Out of his periphery he sees Marc enter the kitchen. He feels one of Marc’s arms circle around his waist and pull him back against him. Colt leans back against the other man.

“You alright?” Marc asks, kissing the back of Colt’s neck through his wayward locks.

Colt shrugs. “I guess if they were overstaffed, I’m the one without a degree… makes sense.”

“Like I said, fuck them. You don’t need them.”

“I don’t need them, but I liked them.” Colt answers. “I’ll find another job.”

“Nah. Give it some time. There’s no hurry.” The embrace from behind tightens a bit. “I got this. I got you. I got us. Alright? I’ll take care of you.”

“I… I need to work, not be taken care of.”

“Not right now, you don’t, Vanilla. Take some time to breathe and do what you wanna do with the band. I’ll take care of everything else.”

It would be strange not to work. Colt’s first job had been throwing news papers into yards when he’d been in junior high. He’d worked every day since then. His dad used to take his money, saying that Colt owed him. Colt was in his junior year of high school when he got smart and started hiding some of his money, a little at a time, until he left after he got his high school diploma. He didn’t go to his graduation. No one cared one way or the other. The day his diploma arrived in the mail, he got his stash of money and left without a word. Colt worked odd jobs all the way across the country until he’d wound up here and started building a life. It’s a long way from Texas to Jersey.

“I’ll just look around without committing to anything yet, alright?”

There’s a moment of silence while Marc considers that before he answers. “Alright.”

**

“Can’t believe you’ve never done this before.” Marc says, watching Colt in profile. “Or maybe I can cause you’re so damn vanilla. Never even a cigarette?”

Colt laughs and shakes his head where it’s rested on Marc’s thigh. They’re lounged on the couch and Marc puts the joint to Colt’s lips again. Colt takes another drag, the latest of many, and holds it in as Marc has instructed him to do. When he exhales he coughs a bit.

“Not even a cigarette. I’m so vanilla.” Even though he’s never experienced it until this evening, Colt knows that he’s very high right now. The world has mellowed to a wonderfully blurry haze where nothing matters anymore and everything is funny.

“It’s not even hardcore drugs. It’s just pot.” Marc’s fingertips gently trace the outline of Colt’s features. Colt closes his eyes and just lets himself feel the touch. “You’re so damn cute, Vanilla.”

Colt smirks. “I don’t think it’s very manly to be called cute.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

“I don’t know… handsome. Sexy. You’re handsome and sexy. Am I those things?”

Marc is grinning that lopsided grin at Colt when he opens his eyes. “Yeah, you’re those things. You’re also cute.”

Fingers thread their way through Colt’s hair. It feels good. Colt loves it when Marc finger-combs his hair and he decides to tell him so. “Your fingers are the best comb.”

Marc laughs at him. “What? Say that again.”

“I said your fingers comb good.” Colt realizes that that sentence isn’t correct either. He doesn’t care. “I like it.”

“I’ll remember that.”

They lay there in silence for a long time, Colt looking up at Marc and trying to figure out the look on his face. No one’s ever looked at him like that before, with absolute adoration, he thinks. The realization that someone likes him that much is profound, and he doesn’t think it’s the pot making him see and feel things.

“Have you ever been in love?” He asks.

“I thought I had.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Whatever that was it isn’t this. This is...” Marc thinks over the words a moment and then nods, twisting one of Colt’s locks of hair around his index finger. “This is love.”

Colt’s stomach twists in a knot of nerves. Marc seems to notice and he puts the blunt to Colt’s lips again. After another drag, Colt says, “I’m scared of love.”

“Why?”

“My dad said I love you to my mom. I don’t want...”

“I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to say anything else.”

Colt feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips and he settles back into being relaxed again. Being high feels good. Not overthinking things feels good.

“I like you a lot though. I like right now… this moment.” His fingertips slide down Marc’s abdomen over the shirt he’s wearing. “I like this.”

He turns to his side and lifts the hem of Marc’s shirt, craning his neck to try to peek up at Marc’s abs under his shirt.

Marc laughs. “What are you doing? You’re high as fuck right now, Vanilla, and I love it.”

“I’m trying to see your abs. I know you have them.” Colt says, joining in with Marc’s laughter. “I wanna see them.”

“So do what you gotta do to see them.”

There’s a challenge in those words and Colt only hesitates a moment before he pushes himself up. He pauses, waiting for the room to catch up with his upright position. Then he moves to straddle Marc, his knees pressing into the old couch cushions on either side of Marc’s hips. Colt starts to tug at Marc’s shirt, making a mess of it until they’re both laughing and Marc helps him get the shirt off.

Colt sets the shirt aside and leans back, sitting on Marc’s knees as he takes in the sight before him. Yes, Marc definitely works out, regularly. His fingertips reach out to trace biceps and triceps, up to Marc’s collarbones and down to pronounced pectorals and lower to well defined abs.

Colt isn’t a wilting flower. He’s not a small guy by any means, but Marc makes him look downright dainty.

He’s never let himself look at and touch Marc like this. Right now he doesn’t think twice about it. Marc said they belong to each other. That means he can touch, right?

“Enjoying yourself?”

Marc’s voice brings Colt’s gaze back up to meet brown eyes. “You’re very pretty.”

Marc barks a laugh. “Oh so cute isn’t manly but pretty is?”

That makes laughter bubble up inside Colt again as he nods. “I called you pretty.”

“I called you cute.” Marc fists the neckline of Colt’s tee and pulls. “Come here.”

Colt is easily pulled in for the kiss Marc is offering him. The kiss is easy. This moment is easy. Everything with Marc is easy right now. Given all the complications leading up to now, Colt can appreciate easy.

On some level Colt had needed this, to separate himself from the complications. Marc seems to have known that Colt needed this.

It’s been a week without the work at the library and Colt has been climbing the walls. He’s been looking online for job opportunities. He’s been out pounding the pavement a few times but nothing has panned out yet. Marc keeps telling him that it’s just been a week and to give it time, but Colt wants to work. He wants to be useful. He wants to contribute to his own life, and he supposes Marc’s as well since they now seem to be sharing a space.

Today Marc came home with cans of paint and paint brushes, drop cloths and painters tape. He wants Colt to paint the living room. Colt knows that Marc is just trying to give him something to keep him busy. Even so, he’s grateful for a project to start on sometime soon.

Marc also came home with a baggie full of weed, which he proceeded to roll and then talk Colt into smoking. After some back and forth, Colt ceded to Marc as he seems to be doing more and more easily as time passes. That’s how he landed in his current status of ‘high as fuck’.

Whatever he is right now, it’s easy to kiss Marc and let Marc kiss him in return. When Marc tugs at his shirt, Colt lifts his arms up and lets the other man pull it off. His hands land back on Marc’s brown skin that he vaguely notes is littered with scars of different sizes and shapes. He isn’t interested in that right now though, he’s interested in feeling the tight muscles in Marc’s arms and tasting over the stubble on Marc’s jawline, down his neck. He’s interested in slipping down off of Marc’s lap and flicking his tongue over one taut nipple, teasing it between teeth and lips and then doing the same to the other. He’s interested in the way Marc slouches down and spreads his legs a bit and the way it invites Colt’s kisses down over hard earned abs. Marc doesn’t have much body hair, but there’s a thin dusting that starts below his navel and disappears beneath his waistband.

That’s where Colt’s kisses end and he looks up at Marc to see the other man watching him. Marc pushes his fingers back through Colt’s hair and brushes his knuckles over the scruff at Colt’s cheek. He re-lights the joint and then leans up to put it to Colt’s lips and Colt dutifully smokes.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Marc says. “But I kinda have a feeling you want to.”

Marc doesn’t have to say the words for Colt to know what he’s talking about. The position he’s in is perfect for it and he only belatedly realizes that. Does he want to? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think right now.

He doesn’t think about how his palm slips to Marc’s crotch to fondle him over his jeans. Marc is already hard and Colt has a moment to accept that he did that to him, Colt made Marc’s body react that way and he likes it.

Colt doesn’t ask as he pops the button and pulls the zipper on Marc’s jeans. Marc grins lopsidedly at him and nods encouragingly. Colt hooks his fingers in the waistband of Marc’s jeans and briefs and pulls when Marc lifts his hips. There’s a moment of absolute silliness as Colt fumbles to get them all the way off. He sobers a bit when he looks back up to see Marc sitting there on his couch completely naked. Even Marc’s thighs and calves are thick, pure muscle.

Marc Fiarri is so damn sexy right now and Colt doesn’t even try to filter his own acknowledgment of that fact. His palm slides up one muscled thigh. “You’re mine?”

“Yeah, Vanilla. I’m yours. And you’re mine, yeah?”

Colt nods. “I’m yours.”

These spoken words are fact, no labels or definitions that Colt isn’t ready for.

His lips find the inside of Marc’s knee and he kisses. He kisses his way up his thigh and only briefly hesitates before he experimentally licks at the tip of Marc’s cock. It tastes salty and sexy. He can do this. He’s had it done to him enough to know what should feel good. For awhile he just tastes with his tongue, the tip, around the head, along the underside of him and around that too. Marc doesn’t push him and lets him get there at his own pace. Colt is thankful for that.

When he finally takes him in his mouth, Marc is already having to take deep, steadying breaths. Colt splays one palm on Marc’s abdomen to feel each rise and fall, each inhale and exhale. Marc’s hand rests over that hand, their fingers lacing together. Colt wraps his other hand around the base of Marc’s length and begins to lick and suck. It’s sloppy at first, his having to figure out a rhythm and become accustomed to the feel of having Marc in his mouth like this.

Colt knows that he’s doing it right when Marc finally speaks. “Just like that, Colt. Just like that. You’re a natural, baby. That’s perfect.”

Colt doesn’t know if it’s perfect, but he feels almost like he’s just finished a show and he’s floating above everything and everyone. Only this time Marc is right there with him, keeping him steady and safe. Whatever this is, perfect or not, he belongs to Marc and Marc is his and it’s going to be okay because Marc Fiarri won’t ever let him fall no matter how high they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt steps back and picks up his half full tumbler of whiskey off of a table to take another sip while he inspects his work. When he’d first opened the can of paint four days ago, he’d been skeptical of the blue-gray color that Marc had picked out. Now that it’s going up on the walls, he thinks he likes it. It’s definitely going to take more than one coat though.

He grabs his phone and turns around to take a selfie with an overly enthusiastic smile on his face and the first bit of paint on the wall behind him. Then he sends it to Marc and takes another drink of his whiskey before going to the kitchen to top off his glass again.

He’s just put the cap back on the bottle when his phone chimes with the notification Marc had changed on his phone: ‘sexy mother-fucker’ by Prince.

 **Marc:** Heck yeah, looking good. The paint looks alright too.

Colt grins and sips at the whiskey as he goes back to the living room. Aside from being jobless, things have been good the last four days. Colt sees Marc off in the morning, looks for a job during the day and then comes home and cleans, does laundry and makes dinner for Marc in the evenings. Marc has been home every night. Every night they fool around. Sometimes they drink. Sometimes they smoke a joint. Every night Colt falls asleep in Marc’s arms.

It’s becoming a routine. Well, it’s routine except that today is the first day that Colt hasn’t even tried to look for another job. He can’t say why he decided to take Marc’s advice and give it a rest today, but he did. Being home all day, he decided it would be fine to drink some whiskey, so he has. The whiskey is so connected to Marc at this point that it feels like Marc is here with him.

In spite of the moments of uncertainty where Marc is concerned, Colt is happy right now. He’s happy where his relationship is concerned. That’s what he and Marc have; a relationship. Marc keeps telling him that they don’t have to label anything beyond their belonging to each other. Colt is good with that, he thinks. He’s good with it because it keeps him from overthinking things. When he overthinks he starts to question everything down to the smallest detail.

He turns the music up and goes back to painting, occasionally pausing for a drink, occasionally dancing around the living room a bit, occasionally singing lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Yeah, he’s happy.

The living room is almost completely painted with a first coat when the text comes in with Marc’s sexy motherfucker ringtone.

 **Marc:** Get ready. I’m taking you out tonight.

 **Colt:** Like… out of the house? Like a date?

 **Marc:** Yep. Nowhere too fancy. I just wanna take you out and show you off.

 **Colt:** Marc, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

 **Marc:** Let me be brave for you.

The words remind Colt of the first time he’d gone out on a limb and invited Marc to his place. Still, he’s already feeling really good with the whiskey he’s drunk today and he doesn’t like going out in public unless he’s sober. Marc knows this about him.

 **Colt:** I’ve been drinking your whiskey today.

 **Marc:** I know. I promise to take care of you. Get ready.

Get ready. Colt plugs his phone in to charge and hurries to take a quick shower. He has to scrape paint off of his skin in a few places. After his shower he trims his beard, adds a bit of mouse to his hair just to tame the waves, puts on cologne and then chooses jeans, boots and a button up plaid shirt. He’s just buttoning the shirt up when he hears Marc’s car.

He steps out into the living room just as Marc enters the house. Marc looks him up and down and grins. He hunts down Colt’s latest glass of whiskey, only half drunk, and hands it to him along with a kiss. “Finish that while I get ready.”

Colt makes sure Emmitt is fed while he nurses what’s left of his whiskey. Something occurs to him while he’s drinking. Marc had said he knew that Colt had been drinking. How?

The timing is perfect. Colt drinks the last of his drink as Marc enters the room looking great in a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt that shows off every muscle.

“Marc,” He’s about to mention the whiskey, really he is, but he gets side tracked as Marc comes in close and kisses him. “You look good.”

“So do you.” They kiss again.

“The whiskey...”

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re with me. No one’s gonna touch you, no one’s gonna say anything to you if you’re with me.”

That isn’t what he was going to say but those are also some of his concerns. Marc leads him outside and lets Colt into the passenger seat of his car before going around to the driver’s side. This is Colt’s first time in Marc’s car. It’s clean as if it’s taken to professionals regularly. When Marc starts the engine, the same song that had last been playing inside the house picks up where Colt had left off.

Again, he wonders how?

Marc takes them to a part of town that Colt hasn’t been to. The club they park at isn’t a club that caters to the Drunk Wizard’s demographic so Colt has never been here. Honestly, he isn’t even sure that he would have known it was a club if they weren’t currently parked in its parking lot. It’s a large and weathered looking warehouse type building with a fluorescent sign out front that blinks the word Amnesia in red then gold then red again.

“I’ve never heard of this place.” Colt says.

Marc laughs a bit and shakes his head. “I’d guess not, Vanilla. Amnesia’s not exactly your kind of place. But I think we’ll have fun.”

Colt wonders what Marc means, that it’s not his kind of place. He stays in the passenger seat until Marc comes around to open his door because he’s not sure if he wants to get out of the car just yet. The other man has to reach in and take Colt’s hand to pull him out of the car.

When Colt starts to pull his hand out of Marc’s since they’re in public, Marc holds on tighter and looks back at him. “You’re with me. Remember? You go in with me and you’re _with_ me. No one’s gonna judge you in here, not if we make it clear who you belong to.”

The warning is enough to make Colt relax his hand in Marc’s then, and even go so far as to hold onto Marc’s hand in return.

They bypass the line to get in and the bouncer just nods at Marc and lets him inside. The electronica music is loud and thumping and Colt is shrouded in darkness once they’re inside. While the outside of the warehouse could use repairs, the inside is a different story. As his eyes adjust, he notices a large bar in the center of the room. People are crowded around it. There’s seating around the edges of the room and large dance floors. Looking up, Colt can see that the place is massive and multilevel. There are people walking and dancing above him on a glass floor. He can see up girl’s skirts and quickly looks away.

Marc leads him up some stairs and pauses at a mini bar. The tender instantly leaves the other customers and gets Marc’s order of a tall whiskey and a Corona. Marc hands the whiskey to Colt and keeps the beer for himself.

Still hand-in-hand, Colt follows Marc past a couple practically having sex on a couch and toward more stairs. At the third and top level, Marc moves a rope aside of a reserved section where there are comfortable couches and low tables. There are a few people already here and the music is a little quieter.

Marc leans over to speak into his ear as he points to each person. “Those are my cousins, Sammy and Juan. That’s an old family friend, Carlos. There’s-”

“Marco!”

When Marc lets go of his hand to embrace another man, Colt’s hand feels cold. He’d been holding onto Marc tightly and now he’s at a loss. He can’t really hear the conversation between the two men, but after a moment, the newcomer comes over to him.

“So this is him, huh? Colt Jackson?” The man offers him a hand. “Finally get to meet the person who’s had all of Marco’s attention lately. I’m his best and only friend, Sebastian.”

Sebastian is tall and slim, with long hair and sharp features. Colt shakes his hand, the reality that he’s meeting some of Marc’s family and friends right now, with no warning, settling in. It has never occurred to him that Marc might be telling other people about him… about them together.

“Hi, I’m… Colt, of course.” He says, putting on a similar smile that he wears when at a Drunk Wizards show and talking to fans. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“He’s not my only friend. Just the oldest and best. He’s also a goofball.” A faux punching match breaks out between the two men and Colt just watches.

Marc and Sebastian have another mostly private conversation and Colt lets himself look around. Marc’s cousins are looking over at him and whispering to one another. So is the old family friend and whoever he’s sitting with along with others gathered here. 

Colt instinctively reaches out for Marc and hooks an index finger in one of his belt loops since both of Marc’s hands are occupied. If he’s with Marc, if it’s clear who he belongs to, then it will be okay. That’s what Marc had said.

He takes a step closer to Marc just as more people arrive into the reserved area, all of them men. One of the men stops in front of him. The man is tall and well built, almost of the same build as Marc only with longer limbs. He’s wearing a full suit and tie, all of it tailored to his physique. He has dark, thick hair that hangs down to his shoulders and a perfectly trimmed goatee.

Dark eyes look him up and down in a way that makes it seem as if he’s already familiar with him before he offers a hand and leans in to speak. Colt feels like the man has just looked inside of him, beyond the surface. “I will assume that you are Colt Jackson.”

Colt has to let go of Marc’s belt loop and switch his whiskey to his other hand to shake this man’s hand. Again, he puts on his fake smile that usually passes in new company. “Yes, sir. You assume right.”

The handshake is firm and the man holds onto Colt’s hand longer than necessary. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Jackson. How nice it is to put a face with the name. My nephew is quite enamored with you.”

Oh shit. This is Marc’s uncle.

Colt tries to pull his hand away again but it would be rude to pull any more than he’s pulling. “He’s...”

“Marco is my favorite of all of my family. I’m pleased to see him happy.” Finally, his hand is let go. “Rodrigo Fiarri. Feel free to call me Rodrigo.”

“Rodrigo.” Colt says, reaching for Marc again, his hand landing at the small of Marc’s back where he pats a few times to try to get Marc’s attention away from Sebastian. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Colt.”

“Hey, uncle.” Marc and Rodrigo embrace and Rodrigo speaks into his ear. Marc nods at whatever was said to him and the embrace breaks apart. “You met Colt. I told you I’d bring him.”

“And you did. Yes, we just met.” Rodrigo keeps a hand on Marc’s shoulder and squeezes there. “I hope we will see more of him. He’s every bit as easy on the eyes as you said he was.”

Again, Colt is being looked over like he’s a piece of meat by Rodrigo. Colt looks to Marc to see if he notices it. Marc just looks at him and tells him to drink. Colt hesitates only briefly before bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip. Rodrigo has the audacity to look pleased with him.

The decision that Colt makes here in this moment is that he doesn’t like Rodrigo Fiarri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Apparently they’re celebrating one of Marc’s younger cousins’ induction into the family business. Colt wonders if there had been a similar party for Marc when he’d started working for Rodrigo before they had met. He assumes, yes. He also assumes that he’s a square sitting in a world of circles, or as Marc would say, vanilla trying to fit in with insert your favorite flavor of ice cream here.

He watches Marc interact with family and friends and knows that he could never come between some of these bonds, especially Marc and Sebastian, especially Marc and Rodrigo. It’s obvious that Marc loves his best friend. It’s obvious that Marc loves and respects Rodrigo. It’s possible that Rodrigo is the only person on the planet to which Marc allows the upper hand.

The more he watches, the more he realizes that any plan he’d had to steer Marc toward working with his dad at the garage and not for his uncle is nothing more than a pipe dream. This is who Marc is.

Colt doesn’t fit in here.

And now Colt is wondering if he’s too deep with Marc, emotionally speaking, to get out with any semblance of ease. He wonders how he got here in the first place. The thought of not having Marc in his day-to-day life makes him feel sick to his stomach and he can’t understand why. He existed just fine without Marc before, he knows he did. Why does it frighten him to do it again?

He hopes the direction of his thoughts is the alcohol speaking and nothing more.

Colt is sitting on one of the plush couches wishing that it would swallow him whole. He feels so out of place. He feels so uncomfortable. 

On the up side of things, he’s very drunk. Marc swings by now and then to get him to drink and then goes off to talk with the people here again. Even with Marc a few feet away, it’s clear that his attention is with Colt. Sometimes their gazes meet and Marc will smile at him. Colt smiles back. When his glass is empty, Marc almost immediately gets him another one.

He’s lazily watching Marc and Sebastian tell a story from when they were kids when he feels someone sit down beside him. Colt looks sideways to Rodrigo and tries to sit up a little straighter. These couches weren’t made for sitting up straight though, so his attempt only brings him closer to the older man.

Somehow Rodrigo makes sitting in the couch look much more graceful than Colt does.

“This, all of it, it’s a lot to take in, I know.” Rodrigo says.

Colt shakes his head. “He didn’t even tell me I was gonna meet all of you. Also, I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be speaking words right now. I shouldn’t be here.”

Rodrigo looks amused with him. “I have heard that you are a musician.”

“Yeah, violin… fiddle, banjo, guitar.” Colt says. “I can make most string instruments sound decent enough.”

“I love classical music. It is a talent to play violin with any amount of accomplishment.”

“I don’t know if I’m accomplished, but I know I love to play.”

“And you are from Texas? I could guess that with your accent.”

“Yeah, the lone star state. Don’t mess with Texas. Land of the Alamo and bluebonnets for miles.” Colt says sardonically. “I can’t place your accent.”

“Italia.” Rodrigo answers. “My brother and I were born in a city called Amalfi.”

“Your brother is Marc’s dad.”

“Yes. I’m afraid he couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Because he doesn’t support your business anymore, whatever that business is.”

Colt takes a moment to revel in the look of surprise on Rodrigo’s face. He likes that he caught the man off guard. The moment passes quickly. Colt decides that Rodrigo has too much of a sharp edge of danger for him to want to catch him off guard too often.

“Yes. I see Marco has been speaking about things with you.”

That makes Colt laugh for some reason, a genuine smile on his lips as he shakes his head. “As little as possible. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe. He doesn’t tell me anything.” He stares at Marc again and mutters under his breath. “Startin’ to think I don’t even know him… not even a little bit.”

“You are probably right. You don’t know Marco.” Rodrigo says. “However, he said that he was going to make you, a seemingly straight man, his - and he has done that with startling success.”

Colt gets the impression that Rodrigo said that to retaliate for Colt’s catching him off guard moments ago. The words make his stomach roil uncomfortably. He was straight, right? Is straight?

No labels. Things are so much easier with no labels.

Rodrigo looks pleased with Colt’s obvious reaction as he continues. “To me that speaks volumes for him. To me that means you see something in him that has made you turn your life upside down for him.”

“He’s a bulldozer.” Colt says, thinking about how Marc has infiltrated every inch of his life.

Rodrigo holds his glass of wine out in toast. “He is a lucky man.”

“Either that or I’m just a pushover.” Like he’s always been, afraid of confrontation, afraid of a fight, afraid of causing trouble for everyone but himself.

Colt toasts Rodrigo anyway and drinks the last of what’s in his glass. The older man takes the glass from him and rises from the couch. “Stay. I’ll have Marco get you another drink.”

His proverbial hackles raise at being told to stay. He’s too drunk for it to last for long. Colt watches as Rodrigo interrupts Marc’s story to pull him aside and speak to him. Marc keeps nodding and glancing over at him. They’re obviously talking about him and that makes Colt nervous.

Did he say anything he shouldn’t have?

Eventually, Marc saunters over to him and holds out a hand. Colt is almost relieved in thinking they might be going home as Marc helps him get up off of the couch. Instead, Marc continues to hold his hand and kisses him soundly on the lips. It catches Colt off guard so that there’s no chance to return the kiss even if he wanted to.

“I wanna dance with you. Let’s go.”

Marc starts to walk and Colt holds his ground until Marc has to turn and come back to him. “We’re in public, Marc. I’ve been fine with everything at the house… but...”

“You’re with me. It’s fine, Vanilla. Nobody will cross us here.” When he says the word ‘us’, Marc indicates the gathering of men in the reserved area with them. “You mess with one Fiarri, you mess with all of us.”

When Marc starts to walk again, Colt goes with him if only because he’s a fish out of water whether he’s up here in the reserved section or in the whole of the club itself. He’s also too drunk to care overly much. He also doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of Marc’s family and friends.

They go down a flight of stairs, Colt moving slower than he normally would because stairs and as much whiskey as he’s had are an awful mix. Marc holds him steady until they get to the second level dance floor where the floor is glass.

Two of Rodrigo’s men follow them down and stand off to the side, watching, or guarding.

The glass floor is disorienting, so much so that he’s thankful when Marc’s arms wrap around him and pull him close. They begin to sway and move with the music, Colt following Marc’s lead. He lets himself feel the music and Marc and for the first time tonight everything melts away and it starts to feel okay.

Music is something he loves, no matter what form it comes in. Dancing is something he enjoys. Marc is someone he likes a lot… except his name isn’t Marc. It’s Marco.

Colt leans in to speak into Marc’s ear. “Why do they all call you Marco?”

“That’s my name. I like that you call me Marc though, sorta keeps you apart from everything.”

“If you wanted me to be apart from this, why bring me here?”

“Because my uncle was right when he told me that if you and me are gonna get deeper into you and me, you have to know who I am.” Marc says into his ear as they continue to sway together. “You have to know what I am.”

Bringing Colt here was Rodrigo’s idea? That’s just great. “What are you? Who are you?”

“I’m not vanilla.”

“What does that mean? Are you a criminal?” Colt doesn’t want to know the answer to that last question, really. He’s suddenly hit by how deep he is with Marc on an emotional level. For a long time he kept telling himself that he could get out if he wanted to as long as he didn’t fall in love with him. He isn’t so sure he can get out right now. He isn’t so sure that he wants to.

“To you, I’m just yours. What I do outside of our house and the garage, it doesn’t affect you.”

Colt glances at the men watching over them, two men who look like they could throw down in a fight if necessary. Then he looks up to the third floor where he finds Rodrigo standing at the railing, his dark eyes trained on the two of them.

“Hey.” Marc says. “Stay with me. It’s just you and me.”

But it isn’t just the two of them and what Marc does could affect him. In some ways it already does, doesn’t it? Colt worries his bottom lip through his teeth, trying to decide if he’s sober enough to try to explain this to Marc without causing a scene, without it becoming a fight.

Marc stops dancing and places a palm on either side of Colt’s face to bring him back to him. Colt meets those brown eyes and Marc grins crookedly at him.

“Nothing’s gonna change, Colt. Not for you. Not yet.” Marc says. “You just met some new people tonight, people who’re important to me. Alright?”

Colt wants it to be that simple. He wants to go back home where things with Marc make more sense. That desire alone makes him nod in agreement. “Alright. Yeah.”

Marc’s thumbs smooth over Colt’s cheekbones. “Mine.”

Colt nods and returns the kiss that Marc gives him then. Kissing Marc is as easy as breathing at this point. Were he less inebriated, the public kissing might have spooked him, but right now it’s nice and familiar in an ocean of the unfamiliar and Colt clings to it like a life raft, both giving and taking more, turning the kiss into something more than just a kiss.

Marc starts dancing again and Colt slowly starts to move with and against his body. The hold on him never lets up as Marc’s lips explore what skin he can reach. Colt is glad to be drunk right now. He feels sexy and wanted and only minimally like he’s being ogled by other people for letting another man do this with him in public.

When they go back upstairs, Colt has a new glass of whiskey and Marc doesn’t leave his side. He keeps an arm draped over his shoulders or around his waist or he holds his hand. These little things help to keep Colt feeling more steady than he really is on the inside. He continues to sip at his drink. He even takes two or three shots when the group takes them. He laughs at a few of their jokes and finds he’s just enjoying observing the group of them and how Marc interacts with them.

They’re on their way home when the nausea hits him. “Pull over.”

Marc gives him time before getting them the rest of the way home. It’s almost sweet the way Marc helps Colt into the house, cleans him up and gets him tucked into bed. Colt thanks him more than once. He’s asleep before Marc gets into the bed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt sleeps in past noon the next day. By the time he gets up he decides it’s too late to look for a new job. He spends the afternoon painting a second coat on the living/dining room area, at least for a little while before he starts to feel like crap again. He goes to lay down and replays the night before in his mind over and over again until he drifts off again. He only wakes up when he feels the mattress shift next to him.

Marc is here, settling in beside him and gently touching his face. “Were you lazy all day, Vanilla?”

“I painted a bit. But I think I had hangover take two.” Colt jokes, leaning slightly into the places where Marc touches him.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, just tired. I bet I’m a new man tomorrow.” Colt brushes his fingers against Marc’s palm and laces their fingers together. Marc still has some grease smudges on his palms and under his nails. “How was work?”

“It was work.” Marc answers with a shrug. “The part came in for your bike. I’ll have it purring like a kitten by the end of the week.”

“Are you sure I can’t pay for it?”

“I’m sure. I also paid the bills today. You don’t have to worry about it.”

That surprises Colt. The twist in his stomach has nothing to do with being hungover. “Marc...”

“Shhh… I said don’t worry about it. All you gotta do is exist here with me. Just stay with me and be mine.”

Marc settles down onto the bed next to him and Colt feels Marc’s lips nuzzle at his neck. Marc takes a deep breath of him and Colt realizes that he didn’t shower today. He hopes he doesn’t stink too terribly bad.

His mind is racing with thoughts of getting a job and paying his own bills again when it’s derailed by what Marc says next.

“I love you, Vanilla.”

The whispered words make Colt feel warm from the inside out. He’s trying to work up the courage to say the words back to Marc when Marc’s phone makes some sound. When Marc gets his phone from his back pocket he notices that there’s a picture of himself on the home screen.

Colt waits for Marc to answer the text message before saying anything. “You took a picture of me sleeping?”

“Yeah. Awhile back. I take a lot of stealth pictures of you.”

Marc flicks his fingers over his phone to open to the camera app, then he holds his phone up above them. Colt turns his head in toward Marc a bit and Marc is just starting to grin when he snaps the photo of the two of them together. “Now I have one of you awake.”

The entire moment makes Colt smile. “One of us together. Send it to me.”

“Alright.”

Another text received and answered on Marc’s phone and then he tosses it aside and turns in toward Colt to hold onto him. Colt’s fingers glide lightly over one of Marc’s biceps.

“You smell like garage mechanic.” Colt teases him.

“You complaining, Vanilla?”

“Nah. I like it.”

Marc presses a kiss to Colt’s brow. “You smell like you’ve been in bed all day.”

“Are you complaining, Marc?”

“No. I like it.”

Colt smiles again, slowly drifting off with Marc.

**

When he wakes the next morning Marc is already gone. Colt slept late again but at least this time it wasn’t past noon. He wakes and showers and brushes his teeth, feeling like a new man. He dresses in jeans and a tee.

In the living room he finds a tall stack of money on the table, crisp bills and as Colt thumbs through it, he realizes it’s an obscene amount of money, as in the kind of money he’s never seen before in one lump sum. There’s a note on the table, scrawled in Marc’s messy writing.

_Vanilla-_  
Money for groceries, beer, liquor, and I want you to pick out a new couch for the living room. Anything extra, spend on yourself. Gonna be absent for a few days for work. Maybe you’ll have the walls finished by the time I get back?  
-Marc 

Colt reads the note three times before he goes to check the fridge and cabinets. Yes, they do need groceries and beer. There are still a few liquor bottles on the cabinet, but not as many as Marc likes to have around. The request is reasonable.

His couch, the second item he ever bought for this house and it was used when he bought it, is old leather and frayed at the seams so he can see why Marc might want a new one. He didn’t ask Colt to buy a new one though. He told him to buy a new one. 

It takes him a minute to push himself beyond that frustration. Every time he thinks he and Marc are doing better, Marc does something controlling or unexpected that unsettles him like a scratch on a record. It also worries him that he’s getting past those instances more often and more easily than he initially had.

Maybe Marc has pushed him faster than Colt was comfortable with, but Marc also hasn’t pushed him so hard that Colt has wanted whatever he has with Marc to stop completely. Sometimes he wonders if this is how it started with his mom and dad. A person makes small concessions and finds excuses for the tiniest things until they’re in too deep and accepting things they never should have started accepting in the first place.

When Colt thinks too much about it, he gets confused. He gets scared.

Marc has never hit him, he reminds himself. He’s gotten rough a few times. He’s demanding as all hell. He doesn’t take no for an answer.

Then there are moments where Marc is so sweet to him. As a child Colt used to be starved for any kindness from anyone who would offer it. He likes to think he’s grown out of that, but when Marc touches him just so, kisses him so sweetly and tells him he loves him in the most reverent of ways, anything that could confuse him about their relationship disappears.

He thinks about lying in bed with him last night, about how sweet he was, about the photo that’s now saved to his phone and the whispered ‘I love you, Vanilla’ that had made his heart swell.

Colt is not his mother and Colt is definitely not his father. He’s his own person. He’s with Marc. No labels.

Colt slips the note in his back pocket and puts a few of the crisp bills in his wallet. Then he sets to making a grocery list. He’ll do everything Marc wants him to do while he’s gone. He’ll even pick out a damn couch.

**

Three days later and Colt has finished painting all of the main room and the kitchen. The entire space is almost the same room, the dining and kitchen separated by some of the kitchen counter and cabinets. He’s restocked the fridge and pantry. He’s been by the liquor store and bought beer that Marc likes and whiskey.

In the living room, delivered just this morning, is a new sectional couch. It’s black leather and looks great with the gray paint on the walls. The movers took away his old couch and Colt was kind of sad to see it go. It was time for something new, he supposes.

Colt spent the morning playing his violin and fiddle. Now he’s lazed about on the new couch in his cutoff sweats and a tank top reading a book.

His phone rings with Marc’s ringtone and Colt answers it. “Hey you.”

“Hey. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Marc’s voice sounds dark and tense. Colt closes his book and sets it on the coffee table. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Long day.” Marc answers. “What are you doing?”

He knows that Marc won’t give him details if he’s on a job for his uncle so Colt doesn’t press him for answers. “Reading.”

“Boring.”

Colt smirks. “It’s not boring. I was fighting Orcs in my mind.”

“Boring.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

“What are you wearing?”

The question and the way Marc asks it makes Colt’s stomach flip-flop. “I’m wearin’ what I’m always wearin’ when I’m bein’ a bum around the house, my cut off sweats and a tank top. What are you wearin’?”

“Jeans and a t-shirt. I want you to describe what you’re doing.”

“Hrm...” Colt thinks about it for a minute. “I’m laying on our new couch. The windows are open cause it’s raining outside and I love that smell. Emmitt’s laying on his bed. I’m… not all that exciting, Marc.”

“I want you to put me on speaker.”

Colt arches a brow and then puts his cellphone on speaker. “Alright. You’re on speaker.”

“Now lift the hem of your tank top and touch your abs.”

Colt smirks. “I don’t have abs.”

“You do. You can barely see them, but they’re there. I like your stomach, Vanilla. Do what I said.”

Colt lays still for a moment before he does as instructed, lifting his tank and then running his fingertips over his stomach. “Alright.”

“How’s that feel?”

“I’d rather you were touchin’ me.”

“Put your hand in your pants and touch yourself.”

Colt’s hand stills on his stomach. “Marc… what…?”

“Do it, Vanilla. Touch yourself.”

Colt sighs and slides his fingers beneath the elastic waist of his sweat shorts and lower. He starts rubbing at his cock, only partly surprised to find himself already hard. Marc has that power over him, even from a distance.

“How’s that feel, Colt?”

“I’d rather yo-”

“Answer my question.”

Colt draws a deep breath. “It feels good.”

“Spread your legs a bit more.”

Colt drops one bare foot down to the floor, bending the knee of the other leg and resting it against the back of the couch.

“Now jerk yourself off, baby. Think about me.”

“I can’t think about anything else right now.”

“Good.”

“You’re everywhere, Marc… even when you aren’t here, you’re everywhere.”

“Good. That’s how it should be.”

Colt tugs and fondles his own cock, getting lost in how good it feels, loving the idea that Marc is imagining him doing this. A heavy exhale from Marc’s end makes Colt realize something.

“Are you jerking off too?”

“Mmhm.” Marc answers.

“Are you thinking about me? Are you imagining me jerking off?”

“Yeah, Vanilla. I can see it.”

Colt grins and lifts his hips, pushing his sweats down just enough to free himself so he can really give himself a good hand job. They don’t have to say anything for awhile, each of them listening to the other breathing and making the sounds that come with arousal.

When Colt is close, he says. “I’m gonna cum now, okay?”

“Lift your shirt more so it doesn’t get on there.”

“Always lookin’ out for me.”

“Always.”

Colt lifts his shirt a bit more and spills onto his own abdomen. He lies there, catching his breath and listening to what he thinks is Marc doing the same.

They’re quiet again, no words necessary for awhile… until Marc speaks again.

“Now wipe it up and lick your cum from your fingers.”

Colt wants to say no, at least initially, but as he thinks about it it doesn’t seem so bad. Marc has had him taste his own cum before.

As if Marc can sense his hesitation, he pushes. “Do it, Vanilla. Lick your cum off of your fingers.”

Looking down at his own spill on his abdomen, Colt dips his fingers in some of it. He brings his fingers to his mouth and suckles his cum off.

“You using your tongue?”

“Oh. No...”

“Lick it. Don’t suck.”

Again, Colt swipes some of his cum up onto his fingers and then licks it off. “Okay I licked it.”

“All of it.”

It takes a bit, but Colt gets all of it swiped up and licked off of his fingertips. He lays back onto the couch and closes his eyes.

“I miss you, Vanilla.”

“I miss you too.” Colt says. “I did everything on your note.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. I-”

“You didn’t buy anything for yourself.”

Oh. Well, Marc has a point there. “I don’t need anything. I did everything else.”

“I left that money for you. Buy yourself something nice, Vanilla. Buy yourself a better violin or something.”

“Good violins are super expensive.”

“There’s more than enough. Go shopping, Colt.”

Colt just can’t see himself spending that much of Marc’s money on himself. He opts to change the subject. “When will you be back? I think I’m used to you bein’ in my bed. I haven’t been sleepin’ well.”

“Our bed.” Marc counters. “And I think I’ll be just a few more days. I like that you want me there with you.”

“You’re still everywhere, even when you’re not here… but it’s not the same.”

“It’s not the same.” Colt can hear Marc draw and let out a deep breath. “I gotta go, Vanilla, but I want you to do one more thing for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Send me a dick pic.”

Colt smirks. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as hell. If I don’t get it in the next five minutes I’m gonna be pissed at you.”

The line goes dead and Colt lays there for a bit. He’s never sent anyone a picture like that before. It feels so juvenile and more than a little naughty. And yet, a part of him wants to do it just because Marc told him to. Score another Colt Jackson first for Marc Fiarri.

Colt swipes through his phone to the camera, then he takes the picture of his junk. He sends it to Marc and then deletes the photo from his phone. Out of sight, out of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Three more days go by. Colt played a fantastic show on Friday night with the Drunk Wizards. Marc isn’t there for the performance and that feels strange to him. He could swear that he sees two of the men he’d seen at Amnesia there though. It had been dark at the warehouse club so it’s hard to be sure and there was no way he was going to approach them after the show without Marc there.

Saturday he went into town and used some of Marc’s money to buy them both a new bedroom set. It isn’t something that’s just for him, but it also isn’t an item that he was told to buy. Something about the way Marc had said ‘our bed’ on the phone the other day made Colt think of it.

Sunday he goes to church and then comes back home. He spends the day setting up the new bedroom furniture and putting the new comforter and pillows on the bed. He fills the drawers of the end tables and the bureaus with his and Marc’s things.

Moving things around, he finds two firearms that have to be Marc’s. One is a rifle that had been hidden beneath the old bed. The other one is a Glock that was in the old nightstand on Marc’s side of the bed.

Colt is from Texas. Guns are no big deal to him and were seen regularly from the time he was very young. The problem is that Marc brought weapons into his… or their, house without telling him.

On Monday morning he decides to look for a new job again.

His plans are cut short when Marc scares the shit out of him that morning by joining him in the shower. Colt hadn’t even heard him come in. But the curtain is pushed aside and he nearly jumps out of his skin when it does. Marc is naked in the shower, kissing him. Marc is so damn good at giving blow jobs and the one Colt receives in the shower is no exception.

A press to his shoulder when Marc is done and standing again has Colt on his knees doing the same for Marc in return, although Colt doesn’t feel nearly as adept at it as he thinks Marc is. Still, he gets Marc off and is held in place until he swallows down what Marc spent in his mouth.

Back on his feet, Marc kisses him. Colt returns the kiss. They kiss for awhile, the both of them freely touching each others’ body.

“I missed you, Vanilla.”

Colt can’t say that he didn’t miss kissing and being kissed like this with Marc. He missed Marc’s company. He missed Marc’s touch and his kisses and the way Marc pushes him past his comfort zone. He missed Marc. “I missed you too.”

“You bought us a new bed.” Marc says.

“A whole bedroom set. Now it’s really our bed.”

There’s a rare look of vulnerability on Marc’s features that’s there and gone again. It feels as if he just got a glimpse of the real Marc without all the tough guy bravado. Colt thinks the bedroom set was worth every penny for that look. The bedroom set was a good call.

After getting out of the shower, Colt pulls on some sweatpants and goes into their bedroom. There’s a black bag sitting on the bed. He goes over to it to unzip it. “You need me to do laundry?”

There isn’t laundry in the bag. There’s blocks of a white powdery substance.

Marc’s hand slaps the duffel closed and he zips it back up. “Yeah. I need you to do laundry.” The bag is shoved under the bed and Marc finishes zipping up his jeans.

“Drugs? That’s what the Fiarri business is?”

“Hey.” Marc grips both sides of Colt’s waist and kisses him again. “Laundry. Get on it, Vanilla. It’s in the other bag.”

Colt worries his bottom lip in his teeth and goes to the other duffel on the bed. He opens it up and finds Marc’s dirty clothes. There’s blood on some of them. Colt wants to say something, but he isn’t sure what. It didn’t look like Marc had any fresh wounds while they were both naked in the shower just now. So whose blood is on Marc’s clothes?

He gets busy with laundry, trying to come up with a way to discuss the drugs, the blood and to bring up the guns he’d found in the house. While he waits for wash cycles and dry cycles to end, he cleans house, he tries to read a book and fails.

Marc is watching TV in the living room when Colt is finished hanging up the last piece of clothing. He’d scrubbed at the blood stains with a brush and had to throw one of the shirts away because it was beyond saving.

He makes sure he has his thoughts and words in order, then steels himself to have a discussion with Marc.

“Hey, babe?”

Marc looks at him and grins lopsidedly. “I like that… you calling me babe.”

“Good. I just… I think we should talk about some of the things that are in our house right now.”

“Colt, no. Not right now, alright? I’ve had a long week without you and I don’t wanna talk about any of it. I just wanna be here with you.”

“But there are drugs under our bed. There’s a gun under our bed too. There’s also a gun in the nightstand. Your clothes were covered in-”

Colt takes a step back when Marc suddenly stands up from the couch and comes toward him. A hand at either side of Colt’s waist, Marc starts kissing him. As they kiss, Marc walks Colt backward until his back is against the wall next to the door to the bedroom.

“It’s not your place to ask questions, Colt. Okay?”

Marc is kissing him again. Colt turns his head to the side to free his lips. “But it is my place. I’m with you. You’re living here and-”

One of Marc’s hands covers Colt’s mouth to make him quit talking. Colt stares at Marc, those brown eyes suddenly looking hard and dangerous.

Marc shushes him as one does an upset child. “Shhhhh….”

The hand over his mouth slides down to wrap around the front of Colt’s neck. One thumb glides gently over his skin but the pressure on his throat is just enough to be uncomfortable, just this side of dangerous.

Colt is frozen in place. He’s seen his dad actually choke his mom. He’s been choked by his dad. He doesn’t move. He holds his breath. He waits, like a deer in headlights. Marc isn’t choking him… yet.

“Breathe, Vanilla.”

Colt makes himself draw in a deep breath. Marc hasn’t hurt him yet. He hasn’t ever hurt him. He wouldn’t.

“Now, go pour yourself a drink, a whole tumbler full, and drink it up.” Marc pulls his hand away and lightly pats Colt’s ass. “Go on.”

A part of Colt wants to stand here and make Marc talk to him about what’s going on. He’s startled enough by the hand that had just been over his mouth and at his throat, by the look in Marc’s eyes, that he slowly pushes away from the wall and goes into the kitchen.

Colt gets a tumbler from the cabinet and opens a bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a tumbler full, replaces the bottle and then takes a sip. Colt hadn’t had very much whiskey while Marc had been gone, now he’s staring down a whole tumbler full. He can feel Marc behind him and turns to look at him.

“Drink.” Marc says.

When Colt takes another drink, Marc puts a finger under the bottom of the glass as he sometimes does to make Colt drink more than he intends to. Colt wrinkles his nose and Marc draws an index finger down the crooked line of its bridge. They go like this for a few minutes until the tumbler is empty.

Only then does Colt feel like he’s gathered himself enough to speak again. “Can we talk, Marc? Please?”

“Pour yourself another glass.”

Colt rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and turns to the counter to pour another tumbler full. “I get it, Marc. You’re a big bad gangster-type guy. I’m not tryin’ to fuck with that. You brought it into this house though… and that gives me a right-”

There’s suddenly a fist in his hair yanking backward and a forearm at his spine pushing forward, putting Colt at a backward bow angle. He drops the tumbler, the whiskey splashing over the floor amid shattered glass.

The sound of shattered glass is all too familiar to him. His dad was really good at breaking glass. He’s back to deer in headlights mode, frozen.

Marc’s lips are at his ear. “That gives you a right to what?” Colt’s lost his breath and doesn’t answer. The quiet gets him another yank at his hair and his hands go up to try to pry Marc’s fist from his locks. “Answer me, Colt. That gives you a right to what?”

“To know what’s going on.” His voice sounds quieter than normal, like a whisper. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Marc will realize what he’s doing and let go before it goes too far. Surely he will.

Colt isn’t sure what the definition of ‘too far’ is.

“I didn’t mean to have to bring it home. Job went bad. It shouldn’t be here more than a few days. I just need someplace to stash it until it’s safe again.” Colt’s head is yanked around a bit by his hair. “Happy?”

“Marc… stop.” Colt says, his voice surprisingly calm and steady. “I am not your enemy. I’m not your enemy, Marc.”

Colt is shoved forward as Marc lets go of his hair. His bare foot slips in the spilled whiskey and he falls to the floor of the kitchen. He pushes himself up to his knees. There’s glass in one of his knees and both palms. Blood seeps from the cuts.

He exhales a heavy breath of air and grabs a towel from where it’s hanging off of the handle of the oven. He lays it over the spilled whiskey to soak it up and to cover up a majority of the broken glass.

Once Marc seems to realize what he’s done, he gets on the floor too. “Oh, baby I’m sorry.”

When Colt feels Marc reaching out to him he bats his hands away. “Don’t touch me right now.”

“Colt, come here.”

Colt feels Marc’s hand on his shoulder and he flinches away. “I said don’t touch me.”

Still, Marc grabs Colt and pulls him back to him, arms wrapping around him tightly. Colt knows that Marc never takes no for an answer so it isn’t completely unexpected. Colt stays very rigid and still as Marc holds him.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. My mind’s all messed up from the job. I’m still worked up. I should’ve stayed away for another day or two. I just missed you so much. I had to see you. I couldn’t stay away.”

Gradually, Colt melts into Marc’s embrace. He closes his eyes and listens to Marc apologize over and over again as he kisses anyplace his lips can reach on Colt.

His dad had never apologized to his mom. His dad just beat the shit out of her and expected her to continue taking it, same with Colt himself. She always continued taking it. So did Colt right up until he left.

It’s a good sign that Marc is apologizing to him… right? It’s good that he knows that what he just did wasn’t right. It’s good that he’s capable of apologizing.

Maybe Colt’s just grasping at straws for anything good in this moment.

“It’s okay.” He hears himself whisper the words. “It’s okay. Marc, I have to take the glass out of my hands and my knee. I need-”

“I’ll get it. I’ll get the first-aide kit and I’ll be right back. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Marc takes Colt’s face in both hands and kisses him. Colt returns the kiss and nods at Marc.

Colt watches Marc leave the kitchen, careful to step over the whiskey and broken glass. Only then does he feel like he can breathe completely and fully. What the hell just happened? He wills himself not to cry and somehow, out of sheer willpower, keeps the tears that have gathered in his eyes from falling.

Marc returns too quickly and together they remove the glass and decide that the cuts don’t need stitches. Marc dresses the wounds after disinfecting them. He kisses Colt’s hands and his knee over the bandages and then kisses him on the lips again.

Once Colt is sitting on the couch, Marc cleans up the spilled whiskey and broken glass. Colt doesn’t think he ever saw his dad clean up after his messes like that either. He always made Colt or his mom do it.

This is another good sign, right? Yes. It is. It has to be.

It has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

“Dude, what happened to your hands?”

Colt looks down to his palms still wrapped in bandage and gauze. “Cooking disaster. I can still play. It’s fine.”

As he hears himself so easily tell the lie Colt is instantly taken back to the practiced lies of his childhood. He remembers rehearsing them with his mom and dad and telling the EMT’s or the social workers or his teachers at school – anyone who would ask after a bruise or a cut or a broken bone. He was always the clumsiest kid around.

Here he is, history repeating itself.

Except it’s not, right? Marc isn’t as cruel as his dad was. Colt isn’t either of his parents.

Sam has been speaking to him and Colt hasn’t heard a single word. He’s blacked out into his own head space for a moment. He used to do that a lot as a kid and into his teens, even for some time after he left home. This is the first time it’s happened in awhile.

He only realizes that Sam was speaking to him when the guy places a hand on his arm to get his attention.

“You with us, Colt? You need to take the night off?” Sam asks.

“No, I’m good. It’s just been a long week… a long few weeks, actually.” Marc isn’t sure that Sam completely buys it or not, but he’s thankful when his friend moves on.

People always move on.

“Alright. Well be careful of the hands, eh? No more cooking disasters. Those are the money makers, am I right?”

Colt forces a smile and nods. “Definitely.”

The gig goes smooth as it always does. Every member of the band is ridiculously talented. It’s really an honor for Colt to get to play with them.

It takes awhile for Colt’s heart to get into it tonight though. By the last set, he’s finally there and playing his heart out. It’s that sweet spot that every musician has where everything is the music and anything else is noise.

They’re about three-fourths through the last set when he sees Marc arrive at the pub they’re playing. There are two people with Marc, the trio stands at the bar and orders drinks.

As the set goes on, Colt realizes that the two other men are Sebastian and Rodrigo.

The last few days since the accident (was it really an accident?) Marc has been very sweet around Colt. He’s doted on him. He’s apologized for what happened again and again. They’ve made out multiple times. Everything has been good and calm.

Seeing Rodrigo and Sebastian, Colt worries that something bad is about to happen again. He tries to tell himself that there’s nothing he can do about it right now, but still, he worries.

He continues with the show, thankfully putting himself back in the right mindset when Sam throws to him on the last song and he gets the spotlight. He plays his heart out, hitting every note and feeling really good about it.

It’s startling to him to find that he doesn’t have that same flying feeling he usually has when a show ends. That bothers him but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him and how to fix it. The absence of that natural high feels as if he’s lost a part of himself.

To the side of the stage, he puts his instrument away and hefts it onto his back.

He looks over to Marc who grins at him and waves him over. Colt puts on a smile and heads that way. The moment he’s close enough, Marc hands him a shot.

“Rodrigo bought us some shots to celebrate your show.” He says. “He wanted to come hear you play.”

The older man is looking Colt up and down and then nods. “Most impressive, Colt. I quite enjoyed it.”

“Thanks.” Everyone is holding shots and looking at him. Colt decides not to argue about one shot. Marc knows that he doesn’t drink when he’s out so maybe he’ll stop more from happening. “And thanks for the shot. I’ll have just one.”

“A toast, to undeniable musical talent.” Rodrigo toasts and everyone takes their shots, including Colt.

Colt responds with a token answer that he gives random fans. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Of course, the fiddle is no violin.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a completely different animal. Although anyone with some talent can make a violin rip with a rock band just as well as a fiddle does.” Colt only realizes then that he’s been drawn into actual conversation with Rodrigo Fiarri.

“Do you have that kind of talent?” Rodrigo asks.

Colt shrugs. “Maybe.”

“How modest of you.”

Marc bumps Colt’s shoulder with his own. “He’s got the talent. He’s that good, uncle.”

Colt feels heat rise into his face that makes him feel like he’s blushing. Marc’s support means a lot to him in front of Rodrigo, who makes him every kind of uncomfortable.

“I don’t doubt it, Marco.” Rodrigo turns back to speak with the bartender.

“Hey Colt. Good show, man.” Sebastian claps a hand down on Colt’s shoulder. “Who ever thought of putting a fiddle with a rock band?”

“Lots of people are doin’ it these days. And think back to a lot of the classic power ballads. They’re full of stringed instruments.” Colt says. “Sam, our lead singer, he’s the guy who writes most of our music, he’s wanting me to play violin in a song he’s workin’ on now.”

“That’s badass.” Sebastian says.

Four shots are lined up on the bar and Colt looks over to Marc trying to silently communicate with him. Marc leans over to whisper in his ear. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you and get you home.”

Colt takes the shot that Rodrigo offers him. Together, the four of them shoot more whiskey and he’s relieved when the bartender says it’s last call for drinks.

They’re out in the parking lot and Marc is guiding Colt toward his sports car with a hand at the small of his back.

“I’m not drunk. I can drive myself home.”

“I want you with me.” Marc answers before turning back to Sebastian. “Hey, Seb! You’ll get Colt’s bike home sometime?”

“You bet! Toss me the keys.”

“May I speak with Colt for a moment, Marco?”

“Yeah. Give me the keys, Vanilla.”

Colt is already worrying over what Rodrigo might have to say to him as he deftly gets his bike keys out of his pocket and hands them to Marc who then proceeds to carry them over to Sebastian.

“Colt, I understand that you saw some things recently that concern you.”

Does Marc tell Rodrigo everything? Colt knows that the older man is talking about the drugs. He lifts his shoulders in a light shrug. “It is what it is, I guess.”

“Does this mean you’re okay with what you saw?”

“No. It means I’m with Marc in spite of it. It means there are more disturbing things than a bag of drugs.” Honestly, what had happened after the discovery is what bothers Colt more than the drugs themselves. He isn’t sure what that says about him that he’s picking bad things out of a sea of bad things.

Rodrigo reaches out to hold onto one of Colt’s wrists tightly. Colt only tries to pull his arm away once before the older man lifts his bandaged hand for inspection and Colt lets him. “This was an accident.”

Colt has played and replayed the entire moment over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong. A small voice in the back of his mind tells him that he wasn’t in the wrong, but an even louder voice comprised of Colt’s past memories of trying to explain away other people’s anger and violence tells him he’d done something wrong.

“It was an accident.” Colt finally agrees.

“You are his world.” Rodrigo says. “You are also his weakness. If what you’ve seen is going to be a problem for you, I suggest you speak up right now. Otherwise, it would be a shame for a talented musician to lose the use of his hands because of an accident.”

The way it’s worded, it sounds as if Rodrigo is looking out for him. The tenor of it, however, is very much a threat. Colt has heard plenty of them in his lifetime to know the difference.

Colt shakes his head slowly, giving the only answer he can in the moment. “It isn’t a problem.”

Rodrigo offers him some semblance of a smile and nods. The pad of his thumb glides over the inside of Colt’s wrist in a far too intimate gesture before he lets go. “Good. I’m pleased to hear it.”

The older man calls Marco back over to him and pulls him aside to have a whispered conversation. Marc glances in his direction and gives Colt a small grin before returning to the conversation with his uncle.

“I guess that went alright?”

Colt is surprised to find Sebastian next to him. He nods at him. “Yeah, it went alright. Have you ever noticed that he’s just a little bit scary? And by just a little bit, I obviously mean a lot.”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, he can be that way. He also takes really good care of his people so long as they’re doing right by him. You stick with Marco, you’re one of those, you’re one of us.”

Colt isn’t sure that he wants to be one of Rodrigo’s people. He just wants to be Marc’s and even that’s sometimes on the fence. Unfortunately, it looks like the two come as a package deal.

“So what about it?” Sebastian asks. “You gonna stay with Marco? I swear, he’s a good guy. What happened with your hands, it isn’t his normal way. He’s never hurt you before, has he?”

It seems that Marc shares their business with more than just Rodrigo. “No, he hasn’t ever hurt me before.”

“He’s just passionate, you know? Especially about you.”

“You don’t have to sell him to me. I already like him.” Colt says with a grin.

Marc comes back over to him and opens the passenger car door. “Get in, Vanilla. Let’s go home.”

“I swear, I’m fine drivin’ my bike. Two shots doesn’t an inebriated Colt make.”

“Colt.” Rodrigo addresses him. “Let your boyfriend take you home.”

Boyfriend? Colt looks at Marc, who’s grinning crookedly at him. He slips into the passenger seat and pulls on his seat belt as Marc closes the door. Through the windshield he sees Rodrigo nod approvingly at him even as the word ‘boyfriend’ plays over and over again in his mind on repeat.

He gets to watch the three men have another quick conversation that he isn’t privy to before Marc finally joins him.

**

Colt is standing in the bathroom, brushing his teeth when Marc enters behind him, leaning a shoulder against the door jam and watching Colt’s reflection in the mirror.

“My uncle likes you. I’m glad… you know, cause I give a shit about his opinion. I always have.”

“He’s family.” Colt says around his toothbrush.

He can understand caring what family thinks of you. There was a time when Colt really cared about his parent’s opinion as well. Sometimes he still does, he wonders what they would think of what he’s made of his life so far.

More recently he thinks they would think him a horrible person; no job, living with a man who he kisses and makes out with on the regular. But there was a time when Colt would imagine that they would be proud. Then again, being proud of him isn’t in their DNA. Time and distance has softened them around the edges where he’s concerned.

“Yeah, he’s family.”

Leaning over the sink, Colt spits out toothpaste and rinses with a cupped palm of water. “He kind of scares me.”

“He can be scary, yeah. Anyone who isn’t even a little bit afraid of him is stupid. But since you’re mine, you’re his too. You’re his people.”

“Sebastian said the same thing.” Colt says. “I like Sebastian. He’s nice.”

That makes Marc smile and nod. “Yeah, he’s good people. I’ve known him forever… since we were tiny. He’s always had my back and I’ve always had his.”

Colt can’t imagine having a friendship like that, much less one that’s lasted that long.

“My uncle says you’re cool with everything.”

Yes, Colt had agreed that he didn’t have any problems in the moment. How could he have said any differently? As he looks up into the mirror at Marc behind him, he knows that he has make himself be fine with it or put an end to this.

Colt doesn’t want to put an end to him and Marc. Everything in this house has Marc’s stamp on it to the point that Colt can’t imagine it being any other way anymore. He cares about Marc.

He nods at Marc’s reflection. “I’m cool with it.”

Marc steps forward, arms wrapping around Colt from behind and pulling him back against him. He nuzzles at the spot where Colt’s neck and shoulder meet. “I knew you would be. I knew this was meant to be, me and you, from the minute I saw you.”

The words are sweet, making a corner of Colt’s lips pull into the beginnings of a smile. He stares at their reflection in the mirror as Marc kisses his neck.

“What are you thinking, Vanilla?”

“I’m just admiring the view.” Colt says. “Us.”

Marc rests his chin on Colt’s shoulder, looking at the both of them in the mirror now, together. He grins crookedly. “It’s a good view. I wish I could box it up and keep it forever.”

Colt picks up his phone from the bathroom counter and lifts it up to get a photo of Marc holding him the way they are right now. It’s a good photo. Colt turns his head back to kiss at Marc’s cheek and snaps another photo. Marc laughs and Colt’s thumb taps the button again to capture that crooked grin for himself.

“Send those to me.” Marc says.

It’s the good moments like this that make everything else worth it, Colt thinks. It’s all worth it for Marc Fiarri when it’s just the two of them with nothing between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt is lying in bed watching Marc get ready for work. It’s been over two weeks since he’s actively looked for a job. It’s getting easier to just exist in this house. It’s getting easier to make all of his decisions around Marc’s schedule and what Marc wants him to do. The only things he gets out of the house for are Drunk Wizard gigs and practices, grocery shopping and beer and alcohol runs.

Marc sits on the edge of the bed beside him to pull on and lace his boots. “I’ll be home for dinner tonight, Vanilla. Make me something good.”

“I will.” Colt’s taken to trying new recipes that he gets from online. It’s fun, cooking new things. If Marc doesn’t like what he cooks they order take out.

Colt reaches out to tickle his fingers at the small of Marc’s back over his shirt. “I have an idea… but I might need your help with it.”

“Yeah? Tell me your idea.”

Colt steels himself, letting go of his pride because of what he’s about to do. “I’m thinkin’ about trying to be a bartender, but the classes cost money… not as much as like schooling for music or whatever, but still, it’s more money than I have and you said I could spend some of your money on me.”

He hates having to ask Marc for money. His remaining funds since he’s lost his job have dwindled though, barely replenished by gigs with the band.

Marc seems to consider for a moment, reaching out to brush his knuckles over the scruff at Colt’s cheek. In the end, he draws a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, Colt. That’s not what I meant when I wanted you to spend my money. I meant clothes and books and whatever… stuff you want. Like I said, go get a new violin.”

“But-”

“Look, I like that you wanna use the money finally. That’s good. But bar tending?” Marc smirks and shakes his head. “Do you know how many people I’d have to kill for flirting with you? I already have to fight it when you’re on stage and everyone’s looking at you.”

Colt is amused and shakes his head. It’s hard to tell if Marc would actually kill anyone or if he’s joking. “You wouldn’t.”

“It’s asking for trouble.” Marc leans down to kiss at Colt’s lips and Colt kisses him in return. “The answer’s no. Alright? Keep asking me for things though. I wanna say yes when you ask for things.”

Colt stares up at Marc for a moment, an explanation of why his trying to do something productive outside of this house a good idea on his lips. He swallows the words down though. Maybe Marc is right. It’s asking for trouble. “Alright.”

Marc looks pleased with him and that makes Colt smile. “You could stay home today.”

That crooked grin makes an appearance and Marc almost laughs. “I could. But I’m going in anyway. How about you do something for me today?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t wear any clothes.” Marc says, standing up and pulling the sheets with him until Colt is lying there in just his boxer briefs. “I wanna see you naked, all day.”

“Is your imagination that good?”

Marc grins again and pulls at Colt’s briefs. Colt lets him take them off and lays in their bed naked.

“I don’t care what you’re doing today, Vanilla. Laundry, dishes, cooking, reading… whatever. No clothes. Yeah?”

Colt looks up at Marc for a long, drawn-out minute before nodding. “No clothes.”

“All day.”

“All day.” Colt agrees as Marc pulls him up from the bed and into an embrace. It feels strange to be naked while Marc is fully dressed. Marc’s kisses ease some of that discomfort though.

When Marc leaves, Colt stands naked and alone in the living room. He thinks about all the ways that Marc must be right about his whole bar tending idea. It was a stupid whim, really. Colt definitely doesn’t want to invite more trouble in than they already have.

There’s a few times when Colt thinks about putting his cut off sweat shorts on after Marc leaves. How would he know as long as Colt takes them off again when Marc is getting home?

He reads a lot. He looks online for more recipes and makes up a grocery list for the next week. He naps and watches TV. Laundry gets done. Every time he thinks about why he’s naked, because Marc wants him this way, he’s aroused. He’s turned on a lot during the day.

Eventually, it’s time to cook dinner and Colt has been naked all day.

Colt is rewarded with an amazing blow job when the other man gets home. Marc is always so good at it. Colt still feels like he’s fumbling around when he returns the favor. Marc assures him that he’s good at it too.

Dinner is cold by the time they get to it, but Marc still tells Colt it’s great. Although he wouldn’t say it out loud just yet, sometimes Colt thinks this has to be what love is. At a minimum, this version of love is far better than the version he grew up with.

**

It’s a Saturday and Marc has been on another job for his uncle for two days now and he doesn’t expect him back for another few days. Last night he played a show with the band and he knows he saw some of Rodrigo’s men there this time. He imagines Marc asked them to look after him and that’s kind of sweet, really.

Colt is outside playing ball with Emmitt when he hears the rumble of Marc’s car. Marc is back already.

He’s smiling when he enters the house looking for Marc. He finds Marc in their bedroom, digging things out from under the bed.

“Hey, babe. You’re back early.”

“Yeah, there was a bag under this bed. Where is it?”

Colt shakes his head. “I didn’t move any bags.”

“Colt.” Marc stands up. “You cannot fuck around with this shit. Where’s the bag?”

Colt takes a step backward. “I told you, I didn’t move any bags. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t? You’re sure of that? Like when you were vacuuming or something?” Marc is stepping closer and closer to him and Colt is stepping back until his back hits a wall because he doesn’t like how frightening Marc suddenly looks.

Colt goes to that place in his mind where he isn’t really listening to or actively present in what’s going on around him. He vaguely hears Marc speaking to him. Marc sounds frustrated with him.

Marc pats Colt’s cheek harder than necessary like he’s trying to wake him up or jog his memory. Colt snaps back into the present situation.

“I need you to think, baby. Think.” Both of Marc’s palms rest against the wall on either side of Colt’s head. “There was a black bag under the bed...”

“Marc, I didn’t touch a bag. You know I try to ignore that stuff.”

Colt flinches when Marc punches the wall beside his head, cracking the drywall. “Stop, Marc. Did you look under my side of the bed? Did you look in the closet?”

Marc pushes away to look under Colt’s side of the bed and Colt goes to the closet to look for a black bag. He’s never wished so hard for a bag of what he knows are illegal drugs to suddenly appear. His stomach flip-flops with nerves when he comes up empty handed.

As he’s turning to tell Marc that it’s not here, a fist slams into his face so hard that he sees stars. Then he’s pushed so that his back hits the wall and he slides down it, holding onto his nose as it gushes blood.

“This isn’t a game, you fucking idiot! Think! Think about where you could’ve put it!”

Colt looks up at Marc in shock, blood dripping onto his hand and from his hand to his shirt and the carpet. “Get out.” He says quietly.

“Find the fucking bag, Colt. I know-”

This time Colt cuts him off by yelling. “I said get out!”

He pushes up to his feet and shoves at Marc’s shoulder with his free hand. “Get out!” His face is bloody. He tastes blood on his lips. He grabs a hand towel from the bathroom and puts it to his nose.

“You can’t kick me out.”

“Yes, I can.” Colt says, crying and not sure when he’d started adding angry, terrified tears to the mixed up mess he currently is. “Get the fuck out, Marc! Call me when you calm the fuck down.”

He’s pushed Marc into the living room and is trying to get him out of the door. Colt pushes against him again, making him move closer to the door and when Marc looks at him now, his fury is giving way to fear.

“You can’t quit me.”

“I don’t know if I can quit you but right now I can kick you the fuck out until you calm down.” Colt points at the door, still holding the towel to his nose. “I want you to leave. I need you to leave. Now.”

“Vanilla...”

“Go find your fucking bag, Marc!” Colt says. “And stop blaming me for shit I didn’t do!”

Marc slowly backs up to the door and finally leaves.

Only once Colt has heard the roar of his engine driving away does Colt fully breathe. He’s shaking. He’s so unnerved by what just happened that he’s shaking.

He can’t believe he stood up to Marc like that. And now that Marc is gone, a cold terror starts to sink in.

His movements are almost robotic as he fills a ziplock bag with ice, holds it to his nose and sits on the couch, tilting his head back to stop the blood flow. It’s been a long time since he’s had to do this, but he’s done it before, too many times.

What if Marc doesn’t calm down? What if Marc comes back and hits him again? What if Marc doesn’t come back once he’s calmed down? What if he loses Marc?

The prospect of these things seem so wrong to him. Does a world exist where Marc Fiarri isn’t in his life anymore? Colt has a hard time picturing it.

**

 **Marc:** Why won’t you answer your phone? I wanna apologize. Let me apologize.

 **Marc:** You’re not even gonna text me back?

 **Marc:** Fuck this and fuck you, Colt.

 **Marc:** I didn’t mean that. I just wanna apologize.

**

 **Marc:** Say something to me. Anything. You can be mad at me, just say something.

 **Marc:** I know I fucked up.

 **Marc:** I’m trying to respect that you need space from me right now, but it’s been two days. I need to see you.

 **Marc:** Baby, please…

**

There’s a knock at the door and Colt stands on the other side of it in the living room, half drunk whiskey bottle in one hand. He’d heard Marc’s car pull up out front. He isn’t ready to see him yet. So far, Marc has respected that. It’s probably the first time he’s let Colt say no, which means he knows that he was in the wrong and he really messed up this time.

Tonight Marc is at the door wanting in. Colt wants to let him in. He isn’t ready though.

“Colt, I know you’re in there.” Marc says through the door. “Just let me in and we can talk.”

Marc wants to talk now? That just frustrates Colt even more.

Still, a part of him wants to let Marc in. His aching face is a reminder that he needs more time.

“Come on, Vanilla. I just wanna talk.”

Colt watches the door until the shadow of Marc walks away, until he can hear the engine of his shiny blue sports car, until he can’t hear it anymore. He exhales a heavy, relieved breath and takes another drink from the whiskey bottle he’s nursing.

**

 **Marc:** I miss you. Please talk to me.

 **Marc:** Shit is insane out here. I just wanna come home.

 **Marc:** I’m in big trouble, Vanilla. I need you to keep me steady.

 **Marc:** I love you.

 **Colt:** I think we need some time and space.

Colt isn’t sure why Marc’s profession of love is what finally makes him say something back, but it is. All he can think of is his dad telling his mom he loves her and then turning around and beating her into the emergency room.

Love is toxic. Whatever this is with Marc, love or not, it’s toxic.

He still wants Marc.

He shouldn’t want Marc.

 **Marc:** No, you’ve had three days. I’ve given you three days, Colt. Forgive me.

 **Marc:** Don’t go quiet on me again, Vanilla. Please.

 **Marc:** I need you.

Colt sets his phone aside. He puts the joint to his lips and continues to try to numb everything, physically and emotionally.

**

The music filling the house is sad and haunting, fitting for Colt’s mood. Five days since Colt kicked Marc out. He’s in the living room playing his violin when he hears the engine of Marc’s car again. He closes his eyes and continues to play as he hears the car door slam shut. He continues to play as he hears a knock at the door. He continues to play when he hears a key in the lock. He only stops when he knows Marc is standing just inside the front door in the living room.

There’s an ugly purple and blue bruise around his nose and as he turns to look at Marc, the other man’s features fall and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.” Marc whispers another apology.

Colt didn’t let Marc in for more apologies. His curiosity has gotten the better of him. “Did you find your bag?”

“No. I’m in trouble.” Marc answers. “It was stolen from here, the night I was gone and you were out playing with your band.”

Colt arches a brow. Stolen from here, from his house? “Someone got in our house?”

“Yeah.”

Well that’s worrisome. Thankfully, Colt is just a little bit drunk so his concern doesn’t overwhelm him completely. Drinking Marc’s whiskey had made him feel like Marc was still here. Smoking Marc’s weed had made him feel like Marc was still here. Both have also helped to numb a lot of what he was feeling.

What a poor substitute they’ve been for the real Marc now that the man is standing in front of him.

“How do you know? How do you know someone got in?” There’s been no signs of a break-in that Colt has seen.

Marc shifts his weight from one foot to the other as if preparing for something. Then he points to the top of ceiling above one of the bookshelves. “Cameras. One there. One in the bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen.”

Colt stares at him, stunned. “You’ve been recordin-”

“I’ve been watching you. I like watching you when I’m not here. I like knowing you’re okay and seeing what you’re doing and just… seeing you.”

“Marc… really?” Colt thinks he should have known. Maybe deep down, on some level, he did know. Maybe this is all his fault for ignoring things he shouldn’t ignore. He hates how he’s so quick to take the blame for things.

“I usually just watch you real-time, unless I wanna relive something with you. After the night I...” He gestures at Colt’s general vicinity, at his bruised face. “...did that. I watched the video of the nights before… the bag was stolen.”

“Do you know by who?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “My uncle’s pissed. I’m in trouble. He has to decide how he wants to handle it. There’s definitely gonna be retaliation. I’m gonna have to make it right, somehow. I wanna make this right first… you and me. I need you, Colt.”

“You hit me.”

“I was scared and angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I’m not gonna be my mom.”

“I know. You’re not her.”

“I don’t wanna be her and just take it.”

“I know, baby. You’re nothing like your mom. You’re stronger than her.”

“Am I?” He doesn’t feel like he’s stronger than her right now.

Marc moves closer to him and Colt’s grip tightens on the neck of his violin. “Wait.”

Marc stops and Colt draws in a deep breath, surprised that Marc stopped when he told him to wait. 

Is he ready for this? Is this the only chance he has for an out from Marc Fiarri? As he feels himself wanting to give in to Marc, he definitely feels every bit as weak as his mom is where his dad’s concerned. He doesn’t want to be her. He won’t be his mom.

Colt sets his violin down and Marc takes that as an invitation to close the gap between them. Marc’s hands cup either side of Colt’s face and he leans in to kiss him. Colt doesn’t kiss him back at first, still trying to think through everything.

Marc has been videoing him for God knows how long, and that’s going to take a bit to truly sink in. Marc has a temper that can sometimes lend itself to violence. Marc is deep into a criminal enterprise. Marc is in trouble with said criminal enterprise.

“Kiss me.” Marc whispers against Colt’s lips. “Please kiss me, Vanilla. Be mine.”

Thinking about telling Marc no again now that the other man is so close again, now that Colt can reach out and touch him, his fingertips landing gently against his chest, thinking about making Marc leave again, it almost physically hurts him even more than a punch to the face. In spite of everything, he’s missed him so damn much.

Can someone be addicted to another person as well as they can be addicted to other things? Can that addiction destroy them just as those other addictions can? Does Colt care anymore?

Colt makes a decision then, a decision to try again. He kisses Marc Fiarri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

There are black roses on the dining room table, a bouquet of them that Marc keeps replenishing since Colt let him back into the house a week ago. Colt stares at them as he waits for the timer to go off so he can take dinner out of the oven. Black roses are beautifully sad, he thinks. Or maybe that’s just how he’s been feeling lately – not beautiful, just sad.

Things have been rocky between him and Marc, not from Marc’s end, rocky from Colt’s end of things. Marc keeps meeting each obstacle Colt gives him and pushing past them until Colt succumbs to him, but then, after awhile, Colt begins to overthink things again. It’s become a vicious cycle in his mind.

How did he get here?

It’s his fault, he decides. He texted Marc and let him get a foot in the door. How could he have known that that was all that Marc needed to permeate everything in Colt’s life? It was over from that moment because Marc is who he is and Colt is who he is. The moment Colt texted him, the moment he let Marc be brave for him, that was it. This was the only possible outcome.

Colt scratches at his beard. He needs to trim it up a bit. He’s taken to wearing his hair up in a bun since Marc had used his sandy blond locks against him when he was angry. He’d thought about cutting it off short but Marc had told him that he didn’t want that. Marc likes his hair the way it is. It’s grown down past his shoulders.

The timer beeps, drawing him out of his thoughts. Colt goes to the oven to open it, sprinkle some cheese on top of the casserole and then put it back in for five more minutes.

He looks up at the corner of the kitchen above the cabinets where he now knows there’s a camera. Is Marc watching him now?

He’d asked Marc to remove them. Marc had convinced him they were needed now, now that their house has been broken into, the cameras are needed. Colt couldn’t disagree.

A top-notch security system was installed this week. Marc says it was needed as well. Colt couldn’t disagree. It freaks him out to think too much about the fact that someone had broken in without their knowing about it. Nothing else was touched as far as he can tell. Nothing else was stolen, just the bag of drugs.

When Colt asked about who was in their house he was told he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore. Colt still worries about it, but he didn’t press for more. Maybe he should have, but he remembers Marc telling him that it isn’t his place.

It’s best for him to keep out of it.

Colt doesn’t like to think about the things Marc has seen on video without Colt’s having known it was going on. He’d seen innocent things like Colt dancing to music and singing loudly to music. Then he’d seen more intimate things; Colt pleasuring himself in bed and in the shower, when he’d gotten himself off on the couch while on the phone with Marc, the day he’d spent naked. Not to mention Colt on his knees numerous times giving Marc blow jobs.

They’d had a long conversation about it. Marc installed the cameras the first time Colt had left him alone at the house. Colt asked if he kept any of the video. Marc admitted that he did. It’s the best kind of porn, Marc had said. Then he’d made Colt sit and watch video on his phone, video with Colt on his knees sucking Marc off.

It’s strange to see yourself do that, maybe especially so for Colt. It’s also an eye-opening experience. Watching the video, Colt sees irrefutable evidence that he likes doing the things that Marc and he do together. In a strange, twisted way, he enjoys watching it.

Marc convinced him that no one would see. It was just for him. Then he fed Colt whiskey and they fooled around. Colt succumbed.

The timer beeps again and Colt takes dinner out of the oven to set it on top of the stove. He looks at the clock. Marc isn’t home yet. He’s usually home by now.

He goes into the bathroom to trim his beard and mustache to pass the time until Marc gets home. When he’s done with that and Marc still isn’t here, Colt texts him.

 **Colt:** Still at work?

He stares at himself in the mirror. The bruising around his nose is now a dark yellow and brown color. He’d called Sam and told him he was sick this past Friday night, skipping his first Drunk Wizard’s show since he’d joined the band years ago. He hated bowing out of a show, but he didn’t want the questions. He didn’t go to church on Sunday either. In fact, he hasn’t left the house since he got the injury. Colt is ready for the bruising to be completely gone. He doesn’t want to be reminded of how he got it every time he looks at his reflection.

Out of sight, out of mind.

When there’s no reply to his text ten minutes later, Colt lays down in bed and opens his latest book. He doesn’t read a word, instead losing himself in his head space until he falls asleep.

**

It’s very early the next morning, before most people are up, before the sun has even started to rise, when he slowly wakes up to the sound of the shower running. Colt lays there, listening to the sounds of Marc showering, listening to the water turn off and the curtain pushed aside, listening to Marc brush his teeth.

The bathroom door opens, only briefly flashing bright light into the bedroom before Marc turns the light off. The other man collapses into the bed and pulls the covers up over him.

As Marc wraps himself around Colt, Colt realizes Marc is completely naked. He feels a kiss to his shoulder, up on his neck and back down to his shoulder again.

“You awake, Vanilla?” Marc whispers.

Colt thinks about pretending to be asleep for a few seconds. That’s stupid though. Why would he even think about that? “I’m awake. You missed dinner. I was worried about you.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I had unexpected business that came up.”

“It’s fine.” Colt says, turning to lie back and look up at the shadow of Marc next to him. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s not great, but I’m gonna work to make it better.”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“I hate that I fucked up so bad… in every way, with you and with my uncle’s business.”

“You couldn’t have known that someone was gonna break in.”

“I should’ve been more careful. I thought if I kept you mostly separate that no one who I didn’t want to know would know about this place.” Marc says. “My uncle says they were probably watching me, which means they know about here and about you.”

Marc’s hand slides down to slip beneath Colt’s boxer briefs to his cock, touching him, holding him, stroking him. It feels good.

Colt’s fingertips trace lightly over Marc’s abdomen. “We’re safe now though, right?”

“Security’s good. No one’s getting in here again, baby. You’re safe.” Marc kisses him then, Colt kisses him back. “Spread your legs.”

Colt lifts his hips to press his cock into Marc’s touch as he spreads his legs just a little bit. Marc knows how to touch him so good, just right, it’s perfect. Colt wonders if he makes Marc feel this good when he does the same. He still feels awkward with all of it. Letting Marc touch him like this has become so easy though.

It’s easy until he feels the gentle press of one of Marc’s digits in a place where Colt has never been touched before.

Colt gasps and closes his legs, reaching down for Marc’s hand and bringing it back up to his cock.

“Not ready yet, Vanilla?”

“No. Not yet.”

“I promise that I can make it feel good.”

Colt has always known that it might lead to that, or that this thing with Marc would lead to what the other man is suggesting right now. He’s not ready for that though. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready.

“Not yet, babe. Please.” He can’t. He just can’t do that yet.

It’s a sign that Marc knows that Colt is still not a hundred percent with him since the lost bag incident that Marc doesn’t push it further. Colt knows that normally Marc would push it to get his way. Instead, Marc gets on top of him and wraps a hand around both of their cocks to get them both off together.

Colt is thankful to get off with Marc this way. He’s thankful that Marc didn’t push for something else that he really isn’t ready for. Underneath that, he’s all nerves that Marc is going to keep asking and that eventually he won’t take no for an answer. It’s in Marc’s blood to take what he wants.

**

The next Friday there’s still enough of the yellow-ish bruise on his face for Colt to call Sam again and get out of the performance. He assures him that he’ll be ready to go again next Friday. Sam sounds genuinely concerned about him. The band leader even asks if there’s something going on that he needs to talk about. Colt assures him that he’s fine and he’ll see him next Friday.

Colt isn’t fine. Sam doesn’t question him further.

He hates missing another performance. He’s tired of being cooped up in this house. It is what it is though. He doesn’t want to have to explain what happened to anyone.

Colt has been here before. He hasn’t had to explain away random injuries to anyone in a very long time. He doesn’t want to go back to doing that so he hermits himself away until there’s nothing to explain.

Marc brings takeout home that Friday. They lounge on the couch together and Marc pours Colt whiskey to drink. Colt dutifully drinks it, feeling more than a little drunk as he leans back against Marc’s chest, settled between his legs. Marc has also lit a joint and while Marc has smoked very little of it, he continues to put it to Colt’s lips to smoke.

He’s browsing Netflix on the TV, the colors spinning in front of him. He’s pretty sure he’s looked at all the rows of the different genres multiple times. He’s been browsing for awhile.

“I know you wanna be at your show tonight, Vanilla. Next week, yeah?” Marc says, combing his fingers through Colt’s hair.

“Next week.” Colt says, enjoying the feel of Marc’s fingers in his hair. 

“Gotta say I like you being home all the time. I like knowing you’re here waiting for me anytime I want to see you… or do other things with you.”

“I’m ready to get out of the house.”

“We’ll need more groceries soon. More whiskey for my baby.” Marc kisses the back of Colt’s neck. “You can go to the store.”

Colt smirks. “I feel like I’m your live-in boyf-… whatever I am.”

“So what if you are?” Marc says. “You’re mine.”

Colt’s sluggish mind continues to scroll through the Netflix screen, looking but not seeing. “And you’re mine?”

“Yeah, Vanilla. I’m yours.” Marc’s phone chimes and he answers a few back and forth texts before putting the joint to Colt’s lips again. Once Colt has smoked, he speaks again. “Got a friend comin’ over. You’ll be nice to him, won’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to him?”

“Just say yes.” Marc kisses the back of his neck again before putting Colt’s whiskey glass in the hand that doesn’t have the remote. “And take another drink.”

Colt drinks again and gets stuck watching a large promo for a TV series replay again and again at the top of the screen on loop. He vaguely hears a knock at the door and shifts to let Marc move from the couch. When he glances at the newcomer, he sees one of the men he remembers from Amnesia. It’s one of the men who watched or guarded he and Marc on the dance floor while they’d danced.

They both lift their chins at one another in greeting before Colt looks back at the TV and starts scrolling again. He’ll find something to watch eventually.

Marc and the man are having a conversation that Colt doesn’t do a good job of keeping up with.

Marc is settling behind him again, a leg on either side of him. His arms wrap around Colt’s waist. “Hey, Vanilla. You remember Jacob?”

“Yeah. He watched us dance. Did you like watchin’ us dance?”

Jacob laughs at that. “Damn, you’re high as a kite, Colt. How much as he had?”

“Enough.” He can hear the smile in Marc’s voice. “Drink again, baby.”

Colt drinks. The joint is put to his lips and he smokes.

Jacob gets in the way between Colt and the TV, the large man sitting down on the coffee table and opening a case with some kind of contraption in it.

Marc takes the remote from Colt and then pulls him back against him, fingers combing through his hair again. He speaks into his ear from behind. “You can’t quit me, can you, Colt?”

Colt shakes his head. While the answer to that question has been muddy for awhile now, right now it seems like there’s an obvious answer. “No. I don’t wanna quit you.”

“I love hearing you say that. I want you to do something for me.”

“Mmhm.”

“Give Jacob your arm.”

Colt holds out his arm to Jacob, who wipes some kind of alcohol swab all over the skin at the inside of his forearm Then the man looks over Colt’s shoulder at Marc. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Do it.”

Colt is vaguely aware of a sharp pinching sensation in his arm. When he tries to pull his arm away from the discomfort, Jacob and Marc hold him in place until Colt quits fighting it. Then Colt watches, transfixed, as Jacob writes on his skin. The pen he uses buzzes like a bee.

Colt laughs.

“What’s so funny, Vanilla?” Marc asks, amusement coloring the question.

“There are bees in our house. How did they get in our house?”

Jacob looks amused with him as he continues to write on him.

Marc kisses the back of Colt’s neck. “I won’t let them sting you. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you.” Colt repeats the words. In this moment, it feels like he means them.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt is sitting up in bed staring at the ink on his arm. The skin around the ink is angry and red. Having slept in past noon again, he awoke to find a bandage on the inside of his forearm. After removing the bandage, he’d found the name ‘Fiarri’ tattooed on his skin in an elegant script.

What the hell?

His memories of last night are somewhat scattered. He vaguely remembers someone writing on him. He remembers Netflix and being unable to pick anything to watch. He remembers whiskey and pot and Marc’s kisses.

But a tattoo?

“Hey.” Marc enters the room with a tray of food. “Breakfast in bed? Sit back against the pillows.”

Colt furiously shows Marc his arm.

“Sit back, baby.” Marc says again.

“Marc. A tattoo?” Colt asks. “That’s permanent.”

“We’re permanent.”

Colt is so damn frustrated. He doesn’t know how to argue with Marc. He doesn’t know how to reason with the illogical. And Marc just stands there, looking as innocent as Marc Fiarri ever does, waiting him out.

Sighing, Colt sits back against the pillows and the headboard. Marc rests the tray across Colt’s lap. On the plate is bacon, eggs and a bagel. There’s a glass of orange juice as well.

Marc grabs something from his nightstand and climbs onto the bed with him. He takes Colt’s arm and starts to smooth some kind of lotion over the tattoo. “You like it?”

“I got this last night?” Colt says, trying to stay calm. He woke up with a tattoo of Marc’s last name prominently displayed on his forearm. He feels branded. “I don’t remember… a tattoo.”

“Yeah. Jacob came over and did it for you.” Marc answers. “You liked it last night, Vanilla.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. You kept staring at it and smiling.”

Try as he might, Colt can’t remember anything more than the abstract version of what happened last night. He keeps trying to put pieces together, but a lot of the night is just… missing.

“I think I was way too… everything last night.”

“No such animal. Plus, I get another one of your firsts… first tattoo.” Marc says, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Eat. I’ve gotta go get some shit done.”

Colt looks down at the tray. This is the first time Marc has made any food for him. This is the first time in his life that anyone has made him breakfast, much less breakfast in bed. “You made me breakfast.”

“Nevermind that it’s past noon, but yeah… breakfast.” Colt looks amused by him. “Just eat it and I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Thank you.” Colt says, surprised enough by the gesture to feel himself calming down. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

Marc grabs his chin and turns him so that he can kiss him soundly on the lips. “Love you, Vanilla.”

Colt stares after Marc and listens to the sounds of him leaving. He looks down at his arm, Marc’s last name tattooed there. Did he really agree to this? Colt can’t remember. He’s never lost time like this before and it worries him that he has now. It worries him a lot.

His fingertips trace the elegant script and he whispers the name into the room. Now, more than ever, he feels like he belongs to Marc, like they’re as permanent as the ink seeped into his skin. Maybe he did like the tattoo last night. Maybe it’ll grow on him with time.

**

It takes most of the day for Colt to feel like he’s kicked off the aftereffects of last night. Colt is starting to think about making dinner for Marc when there’s a knock at the door. Colt answers it and finds Jacob there along with another man from that night at Amnesia.

“Hey, Colt.” Jacob says. “Marco needs to come with us.”

“He does? He didn’t text or call me.” Colt looks back into the house for his phone.

Jacob touches his arm and starts guiding him out of the house. “We don’t have time. You have to come with us.”

“I don’t even have shoes on.” Colt says, turning back to the house. “Just let me...”

“No time.”

The grip on his arm is tighter this time, steering him toward a car. He’s put in the back of it and they’re quickly on the road. Colt is in his cutoff sweats, a tank top and… nothing else. This adds a sense of urgency to the moment.

Colt starts to think the worst as a nervous pit forms in his stomach. “Is Marc okay? Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

“Marco is fine. How’s your arm?” Jacob asks.

That’s right. Jacob gave him the tattoo. “It’s fine. I hear I liked it last night.”

Jacob smirks. “Yeah you probably don’t remember much about it, do you? You liked it just fine, laughed most of the way through it. Then you couldn’t quit looking at it.”

Colt doesn’t remember that at all. Again, he feels a strange anxiety over that fact. He tries to push that to the back burner of his mind.

“Where are we going? Why did Marc send you to get me?” He wonders if Marc is in trouble, if Marc got wind of trouble for Colt. Maybe something happened with whoever stole the bag from their house.

“We were just told to come get you. Don’t worry, Colt. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Jacob seems uncomfortable for a moment, shifting in his seat. “I’m just following orders. Grunt work, you know?”

“For Marc?” Colt asks.

“Mostly Rodrigo.”

How often has Marc dismissed his questions about the Fiarri business? Colt gets the feeling that all of them don’t think it’s his place to ask questions. He looks through the windows and tries to figure out where they’re going.

They end up at some warehouses on the docks. The car pulls into one of the warehouses and parks. Colt’s stomach flip-flops when he see Rodrigo and several other men there. Jacob comes around to let Colt out of the car. He feels very minimally dressed compared to everyone else.

His bare feet pad over concrete, following Jacob toward Rodrigo. He’s looking over the men, looking for Marc. Marc isn’t here.

“Colt.” Rodrigo says, getting Colt’s attention. “Thank you for joining us.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Where’s Marc? Is he okay?”

Jacob guides Colt closer to Rodrigo. The older man looks Colt down to his feet and back up. “Marco will be joining us soon. Ah. There he is.”

Colt turns to see Marc’s blue sports car pull into the hanger. Marc and Sebastian get out of the car. There’s fire in Marc’s eyes as he looks between Colt and his uncle while he approaches. “What are you doing with him?”

“They said you wanted me here.” Colt says and has a terrible, sinking feeling when Marc shakes his head at that.

“Marco, you have been distracted as of late.” Rodrigo says. “You lost my product and you have done little to redeem yourself. This is the root of that problem.”

Colt realizes that Rodrigo is talking about him. He’s the root of Marc’s distraction.

“Uncle I’m working on it. I told you I’m gonna fix it. I told you!”

“And yet… time has passed, too much time and not a single move. You are my nephew. You are my favorite. But I will not allow you to slip by without correcting your mistakes.” Rodrigo continues. “How to punish you, I wondered? What is your weakness?”

Colt remembers when Rodrigo had called him Marc’s weakness. That sinking feeling sinks even further.

“Uncle Rodrigo… he’s mine.”

“He _was_ yours. Now he is mine.” Rodrigo counters, tone all sharp edges and barely contained anger. “He could be yours again once you right your wrongs to my satisfaction. In the meantime,-”

“Are you kidding me?” Colt murmurs quietly, and then louder. “I’m right here.”

Marc snaps at him. “Shut up, Colt.”

“You’re both talking about me like I’m not here. I’m standing right here, Marc.”

“Shut. Up.”

This time there’s a bite to the words that makes Marc almost as scary as Rodrigo. Colt stares at him, mouth closed.

“In the meantime,” Rodrigo continues, “he’s mine to do with as I please, until I feel that you have righted your wrongs.”

Marc turns to his uncle. “No. You can’t. He hasn’t been… We haven’t... He’s mine.”

Colt feels all the blood drain from his face as Rodrigo cants his head back and laughs. “You haven’t tapped that virgin ass, Marco? Why ever not?”

“I was waiting for him to be ready… he isn’t...”

“If you want to be his first, I suggest you get to it, nephew.”

Colt doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds, the world turning into an underwater cavern where he’s here, but unable to participate. There’s still conversation happening, a back and forth between Marc and his uncle. He doesn’t even realize it when he turns and starts walking out of the warehouse. It isn’t really a conscious decision. It’s just something that happens. He wants to exit this, whatever it is.

Two of Rodrigo’s men grab either arm and haul him back, holding him in place. He looks to Jacob and over to Sebastian, both of them looking as stunned as he is at the turn of events. Then he looks to Marc, who is all fire and anger right now. Marc wears his emotions on his sleeve.

His mind finally snaps back into the moment.

“...can’t believe you!” Marc is shouting angrily, shaking his head at his uncle.

“It’s your choice, Marco. Have him first now, or have him used later.”

Colt is watching Marc and when the other man looks at him, Colt shakes his head and mouths the word ‘no’. They stare at each other for a long moment before Marc seems to steel himself and make a decision. It’s a horrible decision.

“No. No, Marc. Marc, no. Don’t do this!” He’s being pulled backward. “You love me, remember? You said you love me. If you love me, you won’t do this.”

Colt is turned and pushed down by his shoulders so that he’s folded in half over the hood of Marc’s car. He struggles and kicks, trying to get back upright again. The men holding him down are strong. Still, he struggles until a third man holds him down so that his top half is completely immobile.

He feels his sweat shorts pulled down to bare his ass and Colt goes very still, the humiliation of all these men in the warehouse seeing him like this paralyzing him. He feels his ass cheeks spread and a tongue licking back there and Colt wants to melt into the hood of this car and disappear. He feels a press against his tight hole and he renews his attempt to get free.

“Marc, please. Please, no. I’m not ready. No, Marc, please no.” He struggles. “Marc! Listen to me!”

A finger is pushed up inside of him and Colt goes still again as the finger is pumped and the tongue continues to add wet lubricant. It hurts. It feels wrong. It feels like he’s being stretched uncomfortably wide as Marc does whatever he’s doing back there.

Then Marc is standing up behind him and Colt hears the unzipping of jeans.

“Please, Marc.” His voice sounds small now, quiet and helpless and he hates it. “Please.”

“He’s begging for it, Marco.” Rodrigo’s voice says. “Do it.”

No. No. Colt hadn’t been begging for it. He was begging for it to stop.

His scream echoes in the warehouse as Marc begins to shove his cock inside of him. It feels like he’s being ripped open. It feels like he wants to die as Marc pumps his hips and Colt is filled deeper and deeper.

He knows all too well how big Marc is. How in the hell is Marc fitting inside of him?

Just when he thinks he can’t be filled anymore, Marc is pushing again. Colt is almost relieved to feel Marc’s legs flush against his own if just because that means he can’t fill him up any more than he has. He can’t tear at his insides any more than he has.

“Don’t move. Don’t move.” Colt whispers. “Please, don’t move.”

Marc’s hand pets at the small of Colt’s back for a few seconds. Colt thinks about being in their bed when Marc would do the same thing, just trace small circles there. It felt good then. Now he isn’t sure how anything feels.

There’s pain. There’s a lot of pain.

When Marc begins to pull out, Colt emits a whining sound that he isn’t sure is really coming from him. Then Marc is pushing back into him. It burns. It feels like sandpaper scuffing up his insides. As Marc does this again and again, the slide of his cock gets smoother. It becomes easier to take. It starts to feel…

No. This isn’t good. There’s nothing about this that’s good.

Everyone is watching this. Every man in this warehouse is watching this.

The blue paint on the hood of Marc’s sports car has a glitter effect to it that Colt has never noticed before. He’s intent on studying it now, getting lost in how clean the car is, in how shiny it is, lost in the individual specs of lighter blue and silver that make the car shine the way it does. He imagines he’s smaller, the specs bigger. He imagines hiding in the blue paint. He imagines being the blue paint.

Colt feels it when Marc cums inside of him. He feels it when Marc pulls out, the emptiness of it as Marc’s spill slides out of him and down his thighs. He feels his own arousal and is embarrassed by it.

Marc lifts Colt’s shorts back into place and Colt is thankful for that. The pressure holding him down to the hood of the car is released and Colt starts to push himself up. Marc helps him stand up and then wraps him up in a tight embrace. Colt numbly lets Marc hold onto him.

“I love you, Colt. I did this because I love you and you’re mine. There’s no world where he gets to have you first. And I know him. I know what he’s gonna do. I’ll fix this, alright? I’ll fix this and he’ll pay. You hear me? He’s gonna pay.”

The words are whispered into his ear and while Colt hears them, he doesn’t listen. He’s too stunned at what just happened to him.

Marc pulls back from him and takes Colt’s face in his hands. He kisses him. Colt doesn’t kiss him back.

“Bring him here.” There are hands on Colt’s arms again, taking him away from Marc and closer to Rodrigo.

Colt watches Marc and the words the other man had said start to sink in. Marc thinks Rodrigo is going to do something to him. “Take me with you. Marc, take me with you. Don’t let him… Marc, take me with you.”

“Be brave, Colt.” Marc says as Sebastian steps up behind him and puts a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

Colt is shoved into the backseat of the car Rodrigo is standing alongside. “You can have him back when I’m satisfied that you’ve fixed your mistake and learned your lesson, Marco.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Rodrigo is in the backseat of the car with him. Colt looks out of the window at Marc and Sebastian as the car is driven out of the warehouse. He looks back until he can’t see Marc anymore, then he’s left alone with two men in the front of the car and Rodrigo Fiarri beside him in the back.

Colt wants to be with Marc, better the devil he knows than the one sitting next to him.

“I’m afraid you find yourself in the middle of our business in a very unexpected way. I wasn’t sure if he would fuck you in front of all of us. I should have known he would, bold and brash as he is.” Rodrigo is looking sideways at him. Colt continues to stare forward at nothing in particular. “He is too much like me. It is no exaggeration to say that he is obsessed with you. I know obsession well. I’ve had a few Colt’s in my time… although mine were not straight men like yourself.”

Colt hears Rodrigo chuckling with amusement then. It sounds far away, like they aren’t sitting in a backseat together. It’s obvious that the older man is laughing at him though. Colt feels embarrassment.

Marc fucked him. Marc fucked him in front of all of those people. Colt’s still in shock. That was his first experience with anal sex and he can still feel the sting of it, he can still feel the wet of Marc’s cum between his ass cheeks.

“It has been so easy for him to manipulate you, Colt. It’s been so easy for him to make you do things that you never would have done before him. I want to learn why. I want to know what buttons he pushes to make you do things with and for him. I must admit that his obsession has been an interesting experiment for me to observe.” Rodrigo says. “Are you even aware that he’s doing it?”

Colt doesn’t answer. He’s not stupid. He’s fully aware that Marc knows how to manipulate him. Colt is only ever aware that it’s happened after the fact. Is it because he’s weak? Is it because he’s so fucked up from a shitty childhood that he can’t see straight with a bulldozer of a man like Marc Fiarri in his life? Is it because somewhere, deep down, he’s always wanted what Marc gives him? Is it because being bossed around and bullied is the only kind of relationship he knows?

Love is toxic. Marc and him together are toxic.

Marc fucked him. Marc fucked him. Marc fucked him. Marc raped…

Colt’s mind gets hung up on that word. Was it rape? It doesn’t feel right to call it rape after everything he and Marc have already done together. They’re together. They belong to each other. They would have eventually done this anyway, right? Marc said he fucked him because he loved him and he wanted to be his first. Colt is so damn confused and he’s still in shock.

Love is toxic.

“I think you’re in a state of shock, Colt. I’m afraid it won’t be easy for you with me, not at first. But I promise that if you play your cards right, if you are very good for me, I will make things easier for you.”

Marc thought Rodrigo was going to fuck him. That’s why he wanted to do it first. Marc is always trying to collect all of Colt’s firsts. Is Rodrigo going to fuck him? Will it hurt like it did in the warehouse?

His mind starts pushing past what happened in the warehouse only because it has to. He puts it in a box in his mind and shoves it out of the forefront of his mind. He thinks about what Marc had said to him.

_I love you, Colt._

No, that’s not what’s important right now even if that’s where his mind wants to linger.

Love is toxic.

_Be brave, Colt._

Yes. Be brave.

He’s in a car with Rodrigo Fiarri going to an unknown location. Colt looks down to the door handle and up to the door lock. It looks locked. He could easily unlock the door and open it and jump out of a moving car. Right? People do that in movies all the time and survive.

“Don’t think about it, Colt.” Colt feels a prick at his neck and reaches back just as Rodrigo pulls a needle away from his skin. “Relax and enjoy the ride.”

Time becomes more fluid as the seconds tick by and everything blurs around the edges. Rodrigo’s arm is around his shoulders and Colt wonders when he started leaning against the other man. He thinks to push himself away, to try to sit up. He feels the arm around his shoulders tighten and he isn’t sure whether he just thought about pushing away or whether he actually attempted it.

Colt doesn’t realize it when the car stops. Did he fall asleep? He feels himself being pulled and jostled out of the car. It’s hard for him to focus enough to take in his surroundings as he’s taken into a large structure of some sort. His eyes keep wanting to droop closed. His brain wants to shut off and sleep.

Stairs are tricky. Two men have to practically drag and carry him up some stairs. He ends up in a small room and is laid down on a bed. It feels so good to lay down.

As much as he tries to keep his eyes open, tries to keep himself awake, he can’t do it. Colt lets the drugs take him into a deep sleep.

**

Colt doesn’t dream. At least he doesn’t remember any dreams and he’s glad for that fact. He isn’t sure where his subconscious would take him if he dreamed right now. As he starts to wake up, he becomes aware of his own nudity. He tries to move and he can’t. His limbs are secured in the position he’s in.

Speaking of the position he’s in, his muscles cramp as if they’ve been in the same position for a long time. That’s what woke him up, that insistent and increasing ache.

He’s lying face down on a mattress. His wrists are tied together and to the headboard above his head. It feels like pillows are beneath his stomach. His knees are bent and his legs folded up and spread wide. There are ties at his knees holding them in this folded position. His ass is prominently displayed and vulnerable.

He lifts his head just a bit to look around.

The room is small, about the size of the galley kitchen at his house. He’s on a slim, twin bed. In the corner there’s a toilet. The door is behind him. He can vaguely see it out of his periphery. There’s a cabinet on one wall. He’s not cold. The room temperature is comfortable enough that he’s not cold even though he doesn’t have a stitch on.

He lays his head back down to the mattress beneath him. His mind is still a little foggy, but it’s clear enough for him to start to feel the beginnings of panic.

Colt pulls at his wrists and they don’t move. He tries to straighten his legs out but the restraints keep them in place, pulled wide and bent beneath him.

His breathing comes quicker and shorter as his situation starts to sink in. Where’s Marc? Surely Marc won’t let this go on too long. Marc will come to get him and take him home.

Who’s going to feed Emmitt? Will Marc remember to feed his dog?

It’s such a random thought to occur to him in this moment. It’s a normal enough thought that it staves off the panic that had been quickly escalating. He slows his breathing down and thinks about his dog and his house. Something tells him that Marc won’t let anything happen to his dog.

His breathing slows to a normal length and pace.

Colt thinks about calling out, but a large part of him is scared to do so, scared to get anyone’s attention with the way he’s positioned on the bed, with his lack of clothing.

So he waits.

It’s a long time alone with his thoughts before he hears what sounds like an unlocking of the door. He’s had to combat several moments of panic in this time. His imagination has run wild with the possibilities of what could happen when someone comes through that door.

Now that the door is opening, he just wants to get it over with. His imagination is vivid enough to make whatever he dreams up worse than reality, he thinks.

“Colt. I hope you find the mattress comfortable enough.”

Colt almost laughs at Rodrigo’s greeting. He’s naked and tied up and Rodrigo is commenting on the mattress. Any humor he might have felt is stifled when he feels a palm on the round of one ass cheek.

“Where’s Marc?” He asks.

“Hopefully he’s doing whatever needs doing to make things right with me.” Rodrigo’s hand squeezes his ass a few times. “Don’t you hope that that is what he’s doing?”

Colt doesn’t answer that. “My dog.”

“Nothing where you were is your concern anymore. You should concern yourself with where you are right now. Making me happy will help in bettering your current circumstances. The happier I am with you, the easier I will make things for you.”

Colt hears a jingle of keys and a lock. He lifts his head to see Rodrigo at the cabinet in the room. The cabinet is quickly closed and locked again. Then Colt feels the foot of the mattress dip as Rodrigo sits there.

“I can see what he sees in you. You’re a very attractive man, Colt. Why were you not in a relationship when Marco first made contact with you?”

Colt remains silent. He doesn’t want to tell this man anything. He hates the way he says that Marc ‘made contact’ with him. From Colt’s perspective, they randomly met at a bar. Of course, he knows that Marc had been watching him for some time before that, so ‘made contact’ is probably more appropriate than he wants to believe.

“I can make it hurt even more than it did when Marco fucked you. Saliva really isn’t ideal lubrication when it comes to sex. It was nice of him to do what he could for you in the moment, wasn’t it? And still, I know that it hurt. Do you want it to hurt more?”

“No.” Colt whispers. The idea of it hurting even more is terrifying to him.

“Then you will answer my questions when I ask them. You will hold conversation with me when I want it.” Rodrigo says. “Why were you not in a relationship?”

Colt steels himself and makes the decision that he’d rather talk than have to go through worse than what happened in the warehouse. “Because I’ve never been good at relationships.”

“Have you tried?”

“Yes.”

“With women?”

“Yes.”

“And they were not good.”

“No.”

“But you are in a relationship with Marco.”

“...Yes.”

“Why are you bad at relationships?” When Colt is silent for a long while, Rodrigo pushes him. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Colt swallows hard. “Because my mom and dad were in a horrible relationship. Are. They are in a horrible relationship.”

“Ah… I think I see now.”

Colt doesn’t want him to see.

“Was it violent?”

“Yes.”

“Was it violent toward you?”

“Yes.”

Colt feels a hand pet at his ass again. “Did they not love you, Colt?”

Colt shakes his head.

“Answer me.”

“No. They didn’t love me.”

“Such a pity. Some people should not be parents.”

Colt feels a spike of anger. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You have it, nonetheless.”

“Untie me.” Colt says, attempting to pull at his restraints again. “Where are my clothes?”

“I threw them away. You don’t need them right now, and when you’re ready for clothes, I will supply them.”

“Untie me.”

“Ask nicely and respectfully, I might consider it.”

Again, Colt has to make himself get the words out. “Please untie me.”

“Not yet, Colt.” Rodrigo says, sounding pleased with him. “You have to earn that.”

As if to emphasize how he has to earn it, Colt feels Rodrigo touch him between his ass cheeks. The older man is spreading some kind of cream or gel around his perineum and then pushing the same lubricant inside of Colt.

Colt pulls at his restraints again, unable to move. “No. Rodrigo...”

“Ah now, I’m using the lubricant because you’ve been conversing and answering questions. If you continue to tell me no then I will take the lubricant away. Do you want that?”

Colt is frustrated as fuck as he shakes his head. He doesn’t want that. He feels Rodrigo continue to prod him with the lubricant, pushing digits inside of him, opening him. Colt can’t deny that it doesn’t feel better than it did with just saliva.

“This can feel so good, Colt… if you let it.” Rodrigo says. “Rest assured that your boyfriend got here first. His spill is still coated and crusted on your skin. It’s very sexy. Mine will join his.”

This can’t be happening, but it is happening and he’s so embarrassed and scared.

Colt feels the mattress shift and hears the unbuckling of a belt followed by a zipper. Rodrigo pushes inside of him and Colt does his damnedest not to make a sound. It helps that it doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped open so much as stretched in thanks to the lubricant.

Rodrigo goes slow rather than the hurried fuck Marc had been ‘forced’ to give him earlier, slowly filling Colt deeper and deeper until he’s balls deep. Roberto fucks him slow, taking his time to make Colt feel every move, every push in and out, every time his own muscles clamp around the man’s cock.

Surprisingly, this slow fuck by a near stranger is worse than what had happened in the warehouse. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t hurt as bad. It doesn’t matter how much lube he used or how slow he’s taken it. This isn’t Marc. He wishes it was Marc.

Colt hates that he’s aroused, but he is. He hates that his body seems to agree that this feels good.

He looks at the threads in the blanket beneath him. They’re a woven tapestry of reds and golds. Colt stares at the blanket until he has to close his eyes and focus on not letting himself cum.

Rodrigo doesn’t let him have that though. Once Rodrigo’s cum has joined Marc’s in dribbling out of his ass and lower, Rodrigo touches Colt’s heavy cock. It’s humiliating to him that it only takes three strokes of his hard length to get him to cum.

Colt’s only victory is that he never made a sound.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt is used two more times. It feels like every few hours Rodrigo returns to fuck him and make him cum. Colt dreads it each time he hears the door unlock, each time he hears the sound of Rodrigo’s perfectly polished dress shoes on the linoleum floor, each time he feels the mattress dip behind him and a hand glide over his ass cheek, each time Rodrigo tells him he’s going to fuck him, each time the older man follows through and fills his ass with his spunk.

His own body betrays him and he cums every time Rodrigo touches him once he’s finished.

He hurts everywhere. Being in the same position this long has played hell with every muscle. There are parts of him that feel numb. There are parts of him cramping. There are parts that just ache.

The blanket beneath him smells like sex. The entire room smells like sex. Colt can feel cum crusted on his ass, on his privates, on his thighs.

After the third time, he’s almost dozed off when he hears the lock turn in the door again. He’s instantly awake, mentally preparing himself for another round with Rodrigo.

Instead of a hand on his ass, he feels a prick back there. Colt lifts his head to look back as much as he can. The man standing there isn’t Rodrigo. It’s Jacob. Colt feels fresh embarrassment at someone new seeing him here like this. Then he notices the needle that Jacob is slipping back into a case. The room starts to blur around the edges.

Drugged. He’s been drugged again. He thinks it’s the same drug as he was given in the car because he’s feeling like he’s liquid. He’s feeling even more tired than he already was.

He feels the restraints at his knees ease up and then pull away entirely. It hurts to stretch his legs out, but he does it anyway. His wrists stay tied together but they aren’t connected to the headboard above his head anymore. Colt rolls to his side so that his back is to Jacob. He just wants to sleep.

“You have to get up, Colt.” Jacob says. “Come on.”

Colt doesn’t want to get up, but Jacob starts to move him anyway and help him get to his feet. He’s unsteady on his feet as Jacob takes him to the toilet and sits him down on it.

“Do your business. You have ten minutes and after that it’s back to the bed for the night.”

Colt sits there as a woman comes into the room to change the blanket and sheets on the bed. The drugs make him less embarrassed about his current state, but his stomach still flip-flops with nerves. He looks up at Jacob.

The man shakes his head. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know this was… I didn’t know. This is how the boss wants it.”

“Marc…?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.” He looks at his watch. “Eight minutes.”

Colt uses his joined hands to push his cock down and piss in the toilet. He has to do more too, but that feels like too much right now, to do that in front of someone else. Still, he sits there because he doesn’t think he can stand on his own.

“Can you help me get out of here?” Colt hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, but the words are there anyway.

“I can’t cross Rodrigo. I won’t.” Jacob shakes his head, waits for the woman to leave the room and then continues. His voice is quieter than before. “If I see Marco, I can give him a message if you want.”

Colt tries to think of a message for Marc. His mind is muddy and blank. He sits there for the full ten minutes and then is made to get up and go back to a bed with fresh sheets and a fresh blanket.

Jacob goes to the door and brings in a tray. He makes Colt eat a sandwich that tastes like it has one thin slice of turkey lunch meat in between two slices of bread. He holds a glass of water to his lips and Colt drinks. Then his bound hands are connected to the headboard again.

When Jacob is leaving, Colt makes him stop with two words. “Tell Marc...”

The man looks back at him, waiting. Colt can’t figure out what to say to him. He’s sleepy as hell in thanks to the drugs and when he thinks about Marc right now, he thinks about the trauma of what happened in the warehouse in front of all those men, including Jacob. It’s still very fresh. What Rodrigo has done to him is even more fresh and will probably incense Marc.

He doesn’t know what to say. He needs Marc to be focused right now, not angry.

“Tell him it’s okay. What happened in the warehouse… it’s okay. Tell him to hurry.” Jacob nods and leaves, locking the door. The lights in the room go off and Colt sleeps.

**

When the lights come back on, Colt is still passed out. It takes him a minute to realize he’s being made to stand and led to the toilet again. This time he does all of his business. The man in front of him isn’t Jacob. It’s one of the men he remembers from Amnesia though, a large man who’s even bigger than Jacob – which is saying something.

After the ten minutes, the man gestures to the bed. “I can drug you and put you in the position you were yesterday, or you can get there yourself.”

Colt looks over at the bed then to the man again. The door behind him is open and Colt thinks to run for it until he sees another guard outside. His hands are bound. There’s just no way he can deal with both men.

What surprises him is that there’s a bedroom on the other side of the door, large and lavishly decorated from what he can see.

“What’s it gonna be, Colt?”

Colt stands and moves over to the bed. He hesitates a moment, staring at the small bed before he crawls onto it and lets the man connect his bound hands to the headboard. Colt is pulled down by his hips so that his arms are stretched all the way, then he feels the restraints at his knees. As they’re tightened, they pull his knees further apart so that his stomach rests against the pillows beneath him. Once again he’s on display for whoever enters the room.

For awhile, it’s just Colt. He’s glad because it gives his mind a chance to clear from the drugs that kept him asleep for so long.

He’s fully awake when the lock on the door sounds. He lifts his head enough to see Rodrigo’s form at the cabinet, unlocking it and getting what he wants out of it.

“It’s a new day, Colt. I think it’s time to get rid of Marco, don’t you?”

The greeting makes Colt’s heart hammer in his chest. All he can think is that Rodrigo wants to kill Marc. In spite of everything, Colt can’t let that happen. He still cares deeply for Marc, a fact that he doesn’t want to analyze too fiercely right now for all its complications. “No. I’m sure he’s doin’ what you want him to do. You don’t have to-”

He hears Rodrigo chuckle and feels a cool, wet cloth wiping at his ass and thighs. “His mess on you, I mean. I apologize, I should have elaborated.”

The cloth wipes at all of his private parts and over his legs. Colt isn’t sure what it says about him that he’s sad that whatever of Marc was on him is now gone. He turns his head so that his face is against the arm that has Marc’s last name tattooed on him. It’s strangely comforting to have it there. He still belongs to Marc.

He hears Rodrigo moving around and then feels the bed dip behind him. The lube is spread over and around his hole again, then inside. Colt doesn’t like that it feels better than it did yesterday.

“Why are you doin’ this?” Colt asks.

“Because every day that Marco takes to right his wrongs is a day he knows that I am fucking you.” Rodrigo continues to probe and stretch him with his fingers. “Also, I want to. I’ve found you very attractive since the moment I saw you.”

“He knew you would do this. You’ve done it before.”

“Marco knows me very well. He knows my style, especially where my people are concerned. Sometimes people need incentive to stay in line and do as they’re told. You know very well that Marco can be a loose cannon. He made a stupid mistake. He needs to get in line and stay in line.”

“He couldn’t have known that someone would break into our house.”

“He lost me a good bit of money, Colt. I like money. I like money more than I like most people.” Rodrigo says. “I want you to push back on my fingers.”

That demand derails anymore questions that Colt might have asked Rodrigo. “I can barely move.”

“You can move enough for what I’m telling you to do.”

“Please don’t make me...” Don’t make him actively fuck himself on those fingers inside of him. Colt doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants…

Marc. He wants Marc.

The thought surprises him. In spite of everything, he wants Marc. Marc has made himself Colt’s world and that fact has never been more obvious than right now. He wishes it was Marc who was finger fucking him. He wishes it was Marc who had fucked him three times yesterday. Why did he say no in their bed when Marc tried to fuck him?

Colt wishes he had said yes. He hates that he wishes he had said yes.

If he’d said yes, he has no doubt that Marc would have made it feel good, that their first time wouldn’t have been in a warehouse full of people watching them, that he would have used lube like what Rodrigo uses.

And here he is blaming himself again. Colt always blames himself.

“I will wait only a few more seconds, Colt.”

Colt experimentally tries to move, realizing that yes he does have just enough leeway to move as Rodrigo wants him to. Humiliation engulfs him as he pushes back and starts to fuck himself on Rodrigo’s fingers.

“That’s very good.” Rodrigo’s other hand rests at the small of his back where Marc usually pets him. “See how your body moves naturally just right? Don’t stop.”

Colt hates that he feels aroused from this.

“How often were your parents cruel to you?”

Colt goes still at the question. He doesn’t want to talk about his past or his parents while he’s doing this. A press to the small of his back makes him start moving again.

“Answer the question.” Rodrigo demands.

“Every day.”

“You were beaten every day?”

“Most days. Yes.”

“Were they verbally cruel to you?”

“Yes.”

“And to each other?”

“Yes.”

“You like to please people, don’t you? You like to try to keep the peace.”

Colt doesn’t like the answer to those questions. “I guess so.”

“You don’t like confrontation?”

“No.”

“You never confronted your father.”

“No.”

“Because you were frightened of him.”

“I guess so.”

“I see you, Colt Jackson.” Rodrigo says. “I see how Marco has done what he did to you. I see you from the inside out.”

The words send chills down Colt’s spine. He doesn’t like that Rodrigo thinks he can see him in that way. Even more, he doesn’t like that he believes it to be true.

The hand at the small of his back moves beneath Colt to rub at his cock as Colt moves. That touch makes Colt move even more without even realizing it. He spills onto the blanket beneath him and tries to pretend that he doesn’t hear his own muffled groan into the blanket beneath him.

The rest of the day is much like the day before, only there are more hours in it, which means Rodrigo is in his room even more times than yesterday. Every few hours Rodrigo fucks him and makes him cum. He makes Colt push back against him each time, his fingers replaced by his cock.

Again, Colt is drugged and made to do his business, made to eat and drink, and then returned to the bed. It’s the man he doesn’t know so Colt doesn’t say much.

The morning is a repeat of the day before. Colt finds he’s thankful for fresh sheets, for the fading fog of the drugs from the night before.

This time instead of making him get back to the bed, he’s made to stand in the middle of the room.

Rodrigo enters the room and looks him over. “Good morning, Colt. I have an offer for you of which you are free to accept or decline.”

Colt just watches him, trying not to think too much about his own nudity aside from the bindings at his wrists.

“I want you to willingly get on the bed in the position you have been the last two days. You will let me do what I want to you unrestrained.” The older man says. “Or we can keep going as we have been.”

Colt wants to leave. He doesn’t want to be here and have this option. He also feels like unrestrained is better than the restraints that bite into his skin.

He decides to stall. “Have you heard from Marc?”

“I will have a conversation with you once I am pleased with you.” Rodrigo steps forward and touches Colt’s chest, sliding his fingers up through the light dusting of hair there. “Make your decision.”

Colt looks over to the bed at the fresh sheets and blanket. “Unrestrained.”

Rodrigo nods to the other man in the room who comes over to Colt and takes his hands in his. The binding at his wrists is cut open leaving angry red lines on his skin. 

With his hands unbound, the tattoo Marc had Jacob give him is on full display. Rodrigo steps close and grabs Colt’s wrist to inspect the tattooed ‘Fiarri’ on Colt’s forearm. Rodrigo grins wickedly and looks up into Colt’s eyes.

Colt doesn’t like the possessive look Rodrigo gives him and has to look away. The tattoo is Marc’s, not Rodrigo’s, in spite of their shared last name.

Rodrigo lets go of his wrist and gestures to the bed. “Show me what a good boy you are.”

The way Rodrigo says that makes Colt feel anger. Anger and Colt have never coexisted for long periods of time together. He pushes the anger down and moves over to the bed, crawling on and settling down on the bed face down and folded in half with his arms above his head.

“Hold onto the slats in the headboard.”

Colt grips two of the metal slats right next to each other to mimic his wrists being bound.

“Scoot lower so that your arms are extended long. Spread your knees further apart.”

Colt follows the instruction until his stomach is rested on the pillows beneath him. He can’t believe he’s putting himself in this position for Rodrigo, but he can accept that he likes being unrestrained. It gives the illusion of choice rather than forced submission.

“Very good, Colt. Every time I enter this room you will get in this position. As long as you comply with this, you will remain unrestrained. Understood?”

Colt nods.

“Answer me aloud.”

“I understand.”

Colt hears the unlocking and opening of the cabinet, then the closing of it. Like yesterday morning, Rodrigo cleans yesterday’s cum from his skin. Then he begins to slick him up.

Rodrigo fucks him again and makes sure that Colt’s pleasure is spilled beneath him as well. Colt is proud of himself for remaining silent the entire time. It’s his own personal victory, a private ‘fuck you’ to the man holding him captive.

It’s only when Rodrigo is rising to go that Colt asks again. “Have you heard from Marc?”

“I have.” Rodrigo pets at Colt’s spine. “He’s working toward my satisfaction, but I am not there yet. You will remain here until I’m satisfied.”

Colt can’t decide if the last sentence is about Marc or about him.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt counts five days that are mirror images of one another. The routine, Colt decides, is nice, if just because it helps him to keep track of time. Each ‘day’ has a night where he’s fed and a morning where he gets clean sheets. In between the two, Rodrigo is in the room every few hours to fuck him.

He’s been here seven days now, a full week.

Colt has been fucked a lot. He tries not to think too much about it. There’s a lot of time to try not to think. Sometimes he’s successful. Sometimes he’s not. Sometimes he’s absolutely disgusted with himself. He’s ashamed to say that he’s cried a few times. Sometimes he wants to see Marc’s face so badly that he holds whispered, one-sided conversations with him.

When he hears the lock on the door, Colt always gets in the position Rodrigo wants him in on the bed. When he’s alone, Colt paces the room, sits on the bed. He gets to use the toilet on his own schedule. These feel like luxuries to him. Rodrigo never lets him forget that luxuries can be taken away.

There was one time when Colt tried the door knob. He was very careful about it, knowing he would find it locked, but he doesn’t think anyone noticed that he tried it.

Seven days. It feels like longer than seven days, much longer. Surely Marc is getting close.

Colt is pacing the floor when he hears the lock on the door. He goes to the bed and starts to position himself just right when he’s told to stop.

“Center of the room, Colt.”

It’s Rodrigo. Colt crawls off of the bed and moves to stand in the center of the room. The woman who changes his sheets every morning enters and gets to work. There are two guards behind Rodrigo.

“You have been a very good boy lately. I want to reward you. Would you like that?”

Colt nods without thinking too much about it. He desperately needs something good to happen.

“Good. Follow me.”

Rodrigo turns and walks away, leaving Colt there wondering if he’s allowed to follow him out of the room. He moves slowly at first, looking at the two guards warily as he passes them to step out of the room into the large bedroom decorated in browns and grays and golds. His feet hit plush carpet and it feels like heaven compared to the cool, hard linoleum of the room he’s been in.

His nakedness is front and center again now that he’s outside. It’s startling that in the last five days he’d come to think of his nudity less and less. Now, on the other side of that room, he feels his nakedness again. Colt sees Rodrigo looking back at him with a cool grin on his lips. Colt follows him.

He’s led to the bathroom conjoining the bedroom and smells some kind of musky scented soap. The bathtub is full of steaming water. Colt hasn’t been able to wash himself since he got here. He knows he stinks like a body does after so many days. He knows he smells like sex.

“Get in, Colt.”

“Really?”

“Really. Wash yourself. Soak. Enjoy it. You’re quite filthy, you know.”

Yes, Colt knows. He feels dirty from the inside out.

Colt steps toward the tub and puts one foot in. It’s so hot that it almost burns at initial contact. Another foot and then he sinks into it with a sigh. Then he looks over to see Rodrigo pulling up a chair. The man is going to stay and watch him?

Beggars can’t be choosers. Colt isn’t going to let this go to waste. He picks up the sponge and soap and starts to wash himself in the bathtub. It’s deep enough for him, even as tall as he is, to sink in to his shoulders, to sink under and wet his hair. He uses the shampoo offered to wash his hair, his face, his beard.

He’d needed this for more reasons than just cleaning himself in a physical sense. Psychologically, he’d needed this.

Once he feels clean, he soaks in the warm water. Rodrigo reaches over to push a button and jets begin to blow against all of his joints.

“Oh my god...” Colt sighs.

Rodrigo smiles at him. “You really are delightful, Colt.”

The compliment sobers him a bit. Rodrigo has held him captive and fucked him against his will for what he thinks is seven days now and he calls him delightful?

“Are you pleased with me, Rodrigo?”

“Yes, quite pleased.”

“It’s easy to make me please you when you keep me prisoner in a room and threaten me with worse than the warehouse.”

“I have never let it hurt you when I fuck you.” Rodrigo shakes his head. “The same cannot be said for your boyfriend.”

There’s that word again, boyfriend, coupled with a reminder of the almost dry fuck in the warehouse. It squelches some of Colt’s momentary bravado.

“Do you love him?”

“I...” Colt shakes his head, thinking about Marc. Sometimes he thinks he might love him. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t know what love is. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think he’s moving quickly enough for my tastes.”

Colt stares at Rodrigo’s dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s not showing me the results I want as quickly as I want them. I had thought your removal from his life might speed him along, but Marco is still quite lackadaisical about his retaliation.” Rodrigo explains.

The idea that Marc isn’t hurrying to get Colt out of here is like slamming himself into a brick wall. What is Marc doing out there? What does Marc have to do besides try to get him out of here? Why isn’t he hurrying?

“I’m afraid I might need to give him further incentive or dispose of him and cut my losses.”

“Dispose of him? But he’s your nephew.”

“Marco is not the sort to sit down and fade into the background as my brother did.” Rodrigo adds. “He would be a problem if I didn’t dispose of him. It’s purely business.”

“Uhm...” Colt can’t imagine Marc dead. Even if he’s dragging his feet about getting him out of here, Colt doesn’t want him dead. He’s kissed Marc. They had been building a weird, fucked up sort of life together.

Colt shakes his head. “He’ll get it done. I know he will.”

“You want him to kill the men who stole from me?”

Colt had vaguely known that that was what it was going to take. The word retaliation is a heavy one. Hearing it spelled out for him like that, it’s even heavier.

“I don’t know...”

“He’s killed before.”

“I know he has.” No, he hadn’t really known without a doubt, but the blood in Marc’s clothes isn’t always his. Deductive reasoning points toward that simple truth that Colt tries not to think too much about.

Rodrigo grins knowingly at him, as if he can tell that Colt is lying, as if he can read Colt like an open book. “Perhaps you can make things better for him.”

“How would I do that?”

“I will consider it.” Rodrigo says, then stands up to get a towel from a rack. “Your bath is over. Get out.”

Colt stands and steps out onto the bath mat. He takes the offered towel and dries himself off. When Rodrigo walks out of the bathroom without a word, Colt hesitates, not ready to go back to that small room. When one of the guards steps inside to look at him expectantly, Colt knows he needs to follow.

In the bedroom, Rodrigo has paused by a small sitting area in the corner of the room. He gestures Colt closer to him.

“Do you think I could have some clothes?”

“No. Not yet. I like looking at you naked.” Rodrigo picks something up from a case and holds it out to Colt.

His breath catches in his throat. “Is that a Strad?”

“Stradivarius? Yes, it is. And it was worth every penny to see the look on your face now. I’d like for you to play it for me.”

“I can’t. Those are worth millions. Like… I’ve never touched anything worth that much.” Colt pauses briefly. “And I shouldn’t touch anything worth that much, especially not right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because Strad’s are ridiculously rare. They’re a huge deal. If I touched that now, it’s forever linked to-” It would forever be linked to this place, this situation, to Rodrigo Fiarri and Colt’s being fucked… or maybe raped, by this horrible man.

Logically, he knows it’s rape. The way his body has reacted to it makes it confusing. He’s scared that he might have started to enjoy it.

Rodrigo’s dark eyes narrow. “Linked to what?”

Colt shouldn’t answer that question. He knows he shouldn’t. If he tells Rodrigo what he’s thinking, it will make things bad for him here. The words ‘linked to you’ are on the tip of his tongue, but in the end he swallows them down and shakes his head.

Rodrigo grins in satisfaction and holds the violin out again. Colt takes it and holds it reverently, looking at the clean lines and perfect strings.

“Could I put clothes on, please?” He asks again, already knowing the answer even though he’s added the please in the hopes that the answer might change.

“No. Don’t ask me that again.” Rodrigo goes to a small serving table and pours himself a drink before getting a bow from the box and handing it to Colt as well. He sits himself on a love seat. He gestures to where Colt stands naked, holding the violin and bow. “I want to hear you play it.”

Colt draws a deep breath before bringing the violin up to rest his chin in the chinrest. He rests the bow on the strings and plays various chords to tune the strings by adjusting the pegs on the neck one way or another. Once he’s satisfied, Colt closes his eyes and begins to play.

There isn’t a particular song that he plays. Colt wings it, playing what comes to him. The notes come out in a hauntingly tragic way. He can’t help it. It’s how he feels.

He’s always heard tales of Stradivari violins like they’re the rarest gem in the world. It’s so sad to him that he’s finally seeing one and he’s forced to play it here and now; naked with his hair still wet and curled and his fingertips pruned from his bath, playing for a man like Rodrigo Fiarri.

This is musical blasphemy as far as Colt is concerned; playing this specific instrument in his current circumstances, in his current state, for a monster of a man.

Colt forces himself to get lost in the music, using the haunting melody as a salve for his emotional wounds, as covering from his nakedness, as a veil for his current state… Music heals.

When he finishes, he keeps his eyes closed and he just listens to the quiet that settles. When Rodrigo says nothing right away, he opens his eyes.

The look on Rodrigo Fiarri’s face as he looks at Colt is strange, like he’s enthralled, enamored, impressed and… captivated.

“What score was that?” Rodrigo finally asks.

“I just… I made it up just now.”

There’s a look of genuine surprise on the older man’s face and Colt isn’t sure what to make of it. Rodrigo almost looks like a different man, a man with weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He wonders what Rodrigo’s weakness is. He wonders if that weakness has ever been used against him in the same way he abuses others’ to get them to fall in line.

They stare at one another for a long time like that until Rodrigo seems to recover. “Most impressive, Colt. It was lovely… and sad.”

“Thank you.”

“You may put the violin away.”

Colt has mixed emotions about that. He wants to get the Strad out of his hands. It’s an instrument that’s too good for him, too good for this situation. On the other hand, the instrument itself is familiar to him. Music heals. Colt feels strangely better than he had before he’d played. Nevertheless, the violin and bow are carefully put away.

When he looks back to Rodrigo, the man pats the seat next to him. Colt sits on the edge of the love seat beside the other man. Colt lets Rodrigo take his hand and turn it palm up. Rodrigo’s fingertips slide up over the Fiarri tattoo, tracing Colt’s veins.

The silence and intimacy of the moment is uncomfortable for Colt. It forces him to speak.

“Why do you think Marc is taking so long?”

A corner of Rodrigo’s lips pinches. “I’m afraid I’m uncertain of that. There could be many reasons.”

“You said I could make things better for him.”

“Would you like to do that for him, Colt?”

Will it get him out of here quicker? Hell yes, he’d like to do that. “Will it help you to be satisfied with him? So I can go home?”

“Perhaps, yes.” Rodrigo says, fingertips still tracing his veins over the new ink. “Although I could make your life so comfortable here if you let me.”

No, Colt wants Marc. Colt wants out of here. “How can I help him?”

“You can start by letting me give you something.”

Colt looks confused for a moment until Rodrigo’s fingertips pause to tap against his vein. “Drugs? What kind of drugs?”

“Harder than anything you’ve ever had. It’s Poison. But for our purposes, we’ll call it medicine that will make you feel so very good.”

Colt shakes his head, wanting to back out of this conversation.

“It’s medicine that I want you to have.” Rodrigo says. “You don’t want to make me unhappy, do you?”

If Rodrigo is unhappy, Colt gets strapped to the bed and there won’t be lube when he’s fucked.

“What will it do to me?” He hears himself asking.

Rodrigo pets at his vein again. “Let me show you.”

“Am I letting you or do I really have a choice here?”

Rodrigo smiles at him. “I think you’re very smart, Colt. I also think you’re familiar enough with your situation to know the answer to that question.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt is flying.

It isn’t like the weightless flight after a show with his band. It’s a heavy flight, suspended but weighted down. There’s nothing natural about it… it’s forced flight. It’s out of his control.

He doesn’t hurt anywhere. He doesn’t feel anything but good and relaxed. There’s a niggling thought that he isn’t good, he isn’t relaxed, but it isn’t an overpowering thought. Colt is stuck in that heavy suspension, floating, flying, rising up… up… up…

Who will catch him if he falls?

There’s a cloud on top of him, looming and ominous. Colt reaches up to touch it, to push it away. His wrist is held and a mouth is suckling on his fingertips. Colt is mesmerized, watching it, feeling the warmth and the wet around each digit.

“Your father was so cruel to you. You deserved better.” a voice says. “Call me Papa.”

“Papa.” Colts lips mouth the word to the dark cloud.

“You want to make your Papa happy, don’t you?”

Colt nods, feeling lips on his skin. His body arches up into each kiss. He imagines it’s Marc on top of him, kissing and worshiping every inch of skin as he sometimes does. “Marc...”

“No. Marc betrayed you. He hurt you. He wanted you clean, Colt. You’re very dirty right now.”

Colt feels very dirty right now, not at all clean. He wants to take another bath.

“It’s Papa, Colt. I’m your Papa.”

Time is lost for a bit, Colt loses minutes as he flies. 

The moment shifts and Colt is bent in half. Cock is in his ass. There’s a man fucking him. It looks like his father. Colt feels a twinge of fear at the sight of the man who terrorized him for most of his life, but he realizes he’s flying too high for his father to hurt him.

No, this feels good. His father is making him feel good. Colt feels good.

“You’re being such a good little boy, Colt. Your Papa is so proud of you.”

He hears himself groan and grunt each time his father’s cock is thrust into him. The man changes and it’s Marc on top of him. Marc, fucking him and making him feel so good. Yes, he likes this much better.

“I missed you.” Colt whispers, punctuating the statement with another groan of intense pleasure. He reaches out to touch Marc’s chest, down to his abs. He likes Marc’s abs. He doesn’t remember Marc having this much chest hair.

“Your Papa has missed you too.” Marc says. “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

Colt spills onto his abdomen. He thinks the words ‘lick it up, don’t suck it. Use your tongue.’ Colt smiles and laughs as he feels wet heat in his ass when Marc cums.

“Call me Vanilla. I wanna be vanilla for you.” He tries to pull Marc closer to him.

Lips nuzzle at his neck and up to his ear. Colt’s hand lifts to thread his fingers in dark hair. Marc doesn’t have hair. He has a buzz cut. Has it been so long since he’s seen him? It feels like it’s been too long.

“Your Papa loves you.” The words say. It doesn’t sound like Marc, the accent thick and Italian.

Marc is on top of him, kissing him. Colt kisses him back, lips parting to let tongue slip past his lips, feeling teeth scrape over his skin. It’s a deep passionate kiss, perfectly coupled with the sated, post-sex feeling he has.

“I love you.” Colt whispers to his boyfriend. “I think I love you too, Marc. It’s toxic. We’re toxic. You’re gonna kill me.”

Marc’s love will kill him, he thinks. Loving Marc will kill him.

When Marc pulls back, it’s his father again. His pulse races and his father’s hands pet at his cheeks over the scruff of his beard. Colt closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see his father on top of him.

“A toxic death is the best way to die. Of course you love me. How could you not? I’m your Papa.”

Colt looks again and Rodrigo is on top of him. Colt lets himself lay there, suspended even with Marc’s uncle weighing him down. Colt slips away, far away from the man freely touching his body. His mind is flying even while his body can feel every touch, every pinch, every slide of tongue and scrape of teeth.

Colt is flying.

**

A mind shrouded in fogginess is how Colt wakes up. The light is too bright and he buries his face in the mattress to try to dim it. He can tell that he’s back on the twin bed in his little room. He doesn’t remember returning to this room. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. Maybe once his mind is more operational he’ll remember things more clearly.

The lock in the door sounds and Colt automatically shifts to the position Rodrigo usually likes him to be in. His hands grip the slats in the headboard. His knees bend up beneath him and spread wide.

“What a lovely sight.” Rodrigo says.

Colt doesn’t have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed right now. He doesn’t even recoil as he feels a hand petting at his ass. In fact, his body pushes back against the touch as if asking for more.

He has no idea how often Rodrigo fucked him while he was out of his mind with the ‘medicine’. He lost count. His body feels well and truly used right now, so he’s assuming that after the ‘medicine’ kicked in, Rodrigo had had his way with him multiple times.

In a way, Colt is glad that he doesn’t remember. It’s also absolutely unnerving to not know.

He needs to wake up. He needs to be alert so that he can deal with whatever Rodrigo Fiarri has in store for him today. His mind won’t wake up, sluggishly waking at its own pace.

“How are you feeling today, Colt?”

“Hmmm...” Colt hums into the mattress as Rodrigo pets at his ass cheeks.

The sound of Rodrigo laughing fills the space. He feels the cool gel of fingers pumped into his ass. He rocks back against them.

“Good boy.” Rodrigo praises him.

Colt doesn’t understand why that praise makes him feel good, like he’s doing the right thing. When Rodrigo fucks him, Colt hears himself making all the wanton sounds he’s tried so hard to keep from making with the older man. He can’t stop himself.

It feels good. Rodrigo’s cock feels good. Rodrigo is making his body feel so damn good. Colt wishes it was Marc.

Rodrigo makes Colt cum when he’s finished. Colt feels sated and calm.

“Do you want your bath, Colt?” Rodrigo asks.

Colt nods. Yes, he wants to try to wash his mind clean, to sharpen the edges, to make things more clear.

“Ask respectfully.”

Colt doesn’t even think twice about it. “Please can I have a bath?”

Rodrigo runs him a bath, just as hot and perfect as Colt remembers the last. He sinks into it completely and holds his breath for a few seconds before coming back up. Rodrigo is still there, watching him. Colt washes himself, his body and his hair. Then he closes his eyes and soaks in the tub.

His mind slowly starts to remind him of the ways that Rodrigo had fucked him yesterday, again and again, in every position. The man had touched him everywhere and Colt had liked it. Colt remembers sharp teeth…

He opens his eyes and sees two bite marks around the Fiarri tattoo on his arm. A look at his chest and he sees more. Colt knows that there are more that he can’t see right now whether due to bath water or location. Rodrigo likes to bite him.

“Have you heard from Marc today?” Colt asks, wondering what Marc would think of him right now, of the things he’s done here with his uncle. He feels dirty again for no reason he can see. Colt begins washing with soap again.

“I have not. Surely he is working toward my satisfaction and your release.”

Is he? Is Marc doing anything to get him out of here? Why is Colt suddenly doubting that Marc is doing anything to help him?

Marc will not leave him here, he reminds himself. He said Rodrigo would pay.

“Surely he still wants you...” Rodrigo adds when Colt remains silent. “...unless he doesn’t want you used.”

The words make Colt even more uncertain. How many days has it been now? How long does it take to kill some people? The thought makes him sick to his stomach. He wants Marc to kill those who wronged Rodrigo so that he can go home.

“I wanna go home.”

“Perhaps you should wash yourself again, to ensure that you are clean.” Rodrigo says. “I’m absolutely certain that Marco would want you clean.”

That’s right. Colt needs to be clean. He’s so dirty. Marc will want him clean. Colt washes himself for the third time before Rodrigo gets a towel and tells him that his bath is over.

After drying off, Colt feels restless and jittery. He feels unsettled. He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself as Rodrigo stands there looking at him.

Finally, after a lengthy awkwardness, Colt asks him. “What do you want me to do?”

“That is exactly the question I was hoping you would ask, Colt. I want you to do some work for me, and if I am pleased by your work, you will be rewarded.”

“What kind of work?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I want you to use your mouth to pleasure a man.”

Colt smirks. “You can’t...” He was about to say that Rodrigo couldn’t be serious, but each time he’s said that, the Fiarri’s have been absolutely serious. “That isn’t simple.”

“I’ve seen you do it before, with Marco.”

Colt feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. How has Rodrigo seen any of that video? “How…?”

“I have my ways. I’m everywhere, Colt.” Rodrigo says. “You will use your mouth to pleasure a man.”

“What man?”

“Someone who has wronged me. I need answers from him. It would entertain me to get them in this fashion.” Rodrigo arches a brow. “You want to make me happy, don’t you, Colt?”

Colt is nodding before he can stop himself. He thinks the words ‘You want to make your Papa happy, don’t you?’ He turns that nod into a shake of his head. “I can’t just do that with some random-”

“You will. Because it pleases me. Because you will be rewarded. If you refuse, I think you know what happens.”

“No lubricant?”

“Precisely. And perhaps it takes Marco longer to satisfy me.”

No. No, Colt doesn’t want to stay here any longer than he has to. “Where is he?”

Colt is walked through what appears to be Rodrigo’s house without a stitch on. There are men throughout the house, who all look at him as he’s led by. Colt tries not to look at them. He can’t bring himself to look at any of them.

He’s taken to the basement, where there are more men guarding a door. They nod at Rodrigo and look at Colt. Colt looks to the wall, to Rodrigo’s back, to the floor… anywhere but at the other men. The door is opened and there’s a man tied to a simple wooden chair in the middle of the room.

“Fucking Rodrigo Fiarri.” The man grinds out and then spits on the floor at Rodrigo’s feet. “You can go to hell.” Then the man looks at Colt and some of the color drains from his face. “You wouldn’t...”

“I did tell you what would happen if you didn’t answer my questions.” Rodrigo puts a hand at the small of Colt’s back and guides him further into the room. “On your knees.”

Colt has to remind himself of what’s at stake. He doesn’t want time added to Marco’s punishment, or his part in it. He gets down on his knees in front of the man.

The captive shakes his head. “No. What kind of sick, fucking…. NO!”

“Open his fly and bare his cock.” Rodrigo instructs.

Colt’s brow furrows. He reaches out to unbutton and unzip the man’s fly. The man starts struggling in the chair.

“No. No. I’m not a fucking faggot, you piece of fucking shit! No! You fucking fag!”

Colt flinches at the words because of the way they sting and because of the way they remind him of the warehouse where he’d pleaded with Marc not to fuck him.

“Bare his cock.” Rodrigo says again, his voice too calm for the moment.

Colt does as instructed.

“Alright, alright! I’ll write down all the addresses. I’ll do it. You’ll know all their stashes. Alright? Just don’t do this, Rodrigo. Don’t let him do this.”

Rodrigo’s hand rests on Colt’s shoulder, a gentle squeeze and then a snap of the fingers with his other hand brings a man forward with a pen and paper.

“I suggest you start talking. My man can write very well.”

Colt is made to kneel there between the man’s legs as he nervously rattles off addresses, seven addresses total. Rodrigo massages the back of Colt’s neck and Colt finds himself leaning into the touch.

“Go make sure those are legitimate.” Rodrigo tells his man.

Colt hears Rodrigo opening his own fly. He squeezes Colt’s shoulder again and Colt sees the older man’s cock out of his dress slacks. Colt looks up at Rodrigo to see him watching him expectantly. He swallows hard and shifts on his knees to face him. Better the devil he knows, he thinks, than a complete stranger.

Does he really know Rodrigo? Probably not. But he knows him better than a man tied to a chair.

“Enjoy the show, Gustav.” Rodrigo says as Colt starts to give him a blow job.

As always Colt feels as if he’s fumbling his way through it. He feels awkward and unsure of what he’s doing. Rodrigo cums in his mouth and he has to assume that he was adequate.

“Fucking fags...” The restrained man says.

Once Rodrigo has righted his clothing, the older man pets at Colt’s hair while they wait. Once the addresses are confirmed, Rodrigo reaches beneath his suit coat to the small of his back. He brings out a gun, aims and shoots Gustav in the chest.

It wasn’t loud. That surprises Colt. There must be a silencer on the gun. Nonetheless, the muffled sound seems to echo in the room, in the air, in his ears, in his heart. 

Colt feels the grip of a gun in his hand. Rodrigo is leaning over him, his hand over Colt’s. He lifts the gun in both of their hands and presses against Colt’s index finger over the trigger. Again, that muffled sound. Again, Gustav cries out as a second bullet enters his chest. Rodrigo lifts their joined aim, and the third bullet hits point blank.

Gustav instantly slumps over.

The words “Good boy, Colt.” are whispered in his ear.

Colt stares at him, horrified as Rodrigo takes the gun away. There’s a dead man with his limp cock hanging out of his pants slumped in the chair next to him. Colt kneels there, stunned.

“Fucking rat...” Rodrigo hisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Life is going to be very busy for me until mid to late next week. I'll try to update if I can. If not, I will get back to it when things slow down again. ❤


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Fucking rat…

Fucking fags…

Those words float around in Colt’s head as he sits in the warm bath water the next day. On the way back to Rodrigo’s room, the man had explained that it was a nasty part of his business. People who cross him have to know that he won’t allow it to stand. Rodrigo said this as if it was just a matter of fact, as if he were discussing the weather or recounting a favorite anecdote. Colt took it as the warning that Rodrigo had intended it to be.

He can still feel the kickback of the weapon fired in his hand. He’s still groggy enough to be confused about what just happened. Once again, he’s in shock.

Fucking rat…

Fucking fags…

A man is dead. The weapon that shot the final blow was in Colt’s hand.

Colt’s ‘reward’ had been more ‘medicine’. Once again, he knows that Rodrigo fucked him multiple times. He knows that he had Rodrigo’s cock in his mouth. He doesn’t remember every detail, but he knows.

There are fresh bites on his skin. He vaguely remembers the other man biting him.

The most disturbing thing of all, he thinks he remembers his father fucking him – his real father. But that isn’t possible, is it? The memory, or faux memory, has thrown him completely off kilter today. He was once again slow to find his own mind this morning, but the additive of his father being in the mix is… too much.

Colt feels dirty. He isn’t sure why he thinks he needs to clean himself, but he does. He uses the soap again and again.

Fucking rat…

Fucking fags…

“You aren’t relaxing into your bath, Colt.”

Colt looks over to where Rodrigo sits close to the tub. The man looks perfect in his carefully tailored suit and perfectly polished dress shoes. Colt feels… less than, in every way possible. “I can’t get comfortable. I just need sleep, maybe. I need sleep.”

“You woke up not long ago… we fucked, do you remember?”

“I remember.” His mind was barely there, but he remembers.

Rodrigo grins at him. “Good. I would hate to think that I’m so easily forgettable.”

No, Colt will never, ever, ever forget Rodrigo Fiarri.

A silence settles between them again until Colt feels like he has to ask or he’ll lose what little of his mind he has left. “Was my dad here?”

Rodrigo leans in closer at that question, suddenly much more interested in the conversation. “No, he wasn’t here. Why?”

“I could’ve sworn… I must have dreamed it. It was just a dream.” An extremely fucked up dream.

The older man shifts closer to the tub, close enough to touch Colt’s shoulder with one hand. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you. I would protect you as a proper father should have done.”

Colt finds himself laughing then. This man is vowing to protect him, after everything Rodrigo has done to him? His laugh sounds wrong and fades quickly because there’s a part of him that wants to believe those words. Rodrigo would protect him. He feels like he’s going insane, like his mind isn’t his with all the foreign thoughts in it, like this is never going to end.

“Marc? Marc.” Colt says. “Have you heard from him?”

“I have.” Rodrigo says, pulling his hand away. “Are you sure that you are clean enough, Colt?

Colt automatically picks up the soap and sponge to start cleaning himself again. He wants to be clean for Marc. “No, you’re right.”

Rodrigo sits back in his chair and watches Colt bathe again. Colt can feel his eyes on him, although it doesn’t bother him like it once did. There are bigger concerns than Rodrigo Fiarri watching him bathe again and again, he thinks. There are bigger concerns, like whether there will be any of Colt’s mind left when all is said and done.

**

Colt is flying again, the stifled sort of flying that doesn’t carry freedom with it. He’s a bird in a cage, a dog on a leash – alive and willing to be its best self but _kept_.

It seems like he’s always flying lately. His Papa gives him medicine more and more often.

He’s lying back on dark, stormy clouds, staring at a gold embellished ceiling as Rodrigo sucks his cock. It feels so good. Rodrigo makes him feel good. He emits a heady groan as he feels himself climax, back arching up off of the bed as every muscle tenses with pleasure.

Why is he surprised when Rodrigo lets him cum in his mouth? It feels odd to him for some reason.

Marc occurs to him as an afterthought. Yes, he wants Marc. Marc would make him feel good too. Marc would drink Colt’s spill as well… and has, many times before.

“Marc...”

“Marco hurt you. He abandoned you. Marco wants you clean, unused… are you either of those things, Colt? Will you ever be clean enough for him? Will you ever be clean enough for anyone else but me?”

Colt shakes his head, trying to push his way up to get to the bathtub. Why isn’t he clean?

The older man pushes him back down and kisses his way up his body. “Your father never deserved you as a son.”

Colt furrows his brow, the suggestion stunting his train of thought. He doesn’t want his father to come back. He doesn’t want his father to fuck him.

“Your Papa will take care of you.” The man says. “You can be as dirty as you want and your Papa will still love you.”

Yes. Colt can still be loved.

He nods at the man on top of him, watching as the gold ceiling behind him morphs into the sun. Colt squints his eyes at the brightness of it and Rodrigo laughs at him.

“Is it too bright in here for you, Colt?”

Colt closes his eyes. “It’s so bright...”

“Roll over and Papa will fuck you.” Rodrigo says. “You want that, don’t you?”

“Yeah...” Colt rolls over and buries his face in the dark cloud beneath him to shut out the brightness of the sun.

“Tell me you want Papa to fuck you, Colt.”

Fat, hard cock is already pushing into him. Colt’s overused ass stretches easily to accommodate Rodrigo’s width. “I want you to fuck me.”

He thinks he hears thunder and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound. Thunderstorms are nature’s music.

“What?” Colt feels emptiness where Rodrigo’s cock was. The cloud trembles and Colt feels unsteady. “How dare you interrupt me. What is so important?”

There’s another voice in the room. “I heard a rumor that I think you need to know. Marco...”

“Wait. Not in front of him.” Rodrigo stops the second voice.

A door shuts and Colt is left in silence on his dark cloud. He thinks Papa left him alone and he wonders if he’s too dirty for even Papa to use. Why can’t he get clean? He needs to be clean.

Colt crawls across the cloud, clawing his way across it until he falls to another cloud.

He crawls… and crawls…

When he finds the bathtub, he runs the water. He climbs into the tub, feeling a chill but deciding its worth it if he can just be clean. He sinks to the bottom of the tub and lies back flat to the base with his knees bent up, feeling the freezing cold rain pour on him. He used to love the rain.

It’s so damn cold and the water’s rising, but Colt wants it, he welcomes it. Rain is cleansing. Water will clean him.

The water reaches is lips and nose and he holds his breath, willing it to swallow him whole. It does. Colt is in a vast lake and sinking with the slow descent of a person who can’t or won’t swim to safety. He takes a lungful of the frigid water. He can’t breathe. He lays still and lets it happen.

He sinks down… down… and deeper still.

Colt exhales what little air is left in his body and closes his eyes.

Something jerks him out of the lake. Colt isn’t on his cloud anymore. It’s quit raining. He’s on the tiled floor of Rodrigo’s bathroom. Colt sputters and coughs up water. Everything is cold.

He lays down on the tile and looks at the water he’s spilled and coughed onto the floor. It’s so messy… and Colt still doesn’t feel clean.

**

Colt’s muscles hurt again. When he tries to move, he finds himself restrained in the position his Papa likes him in the most. His arms are bound together above his head. His knees are spread wide and bent up beneath him. He can barely move. He feels the rough quilt beneath him and opens his eyes to find himself on the twin bed in the small room adjoining Rodrigo’s room.

The sheets smell freshly washed. Colt can smell the musky scent of Rodrigo’s soap on his own skin and he vaguely remembers Rodrigo in a warm bath with him and washing him clean.

Rodrigo got in the bath with him and cleaned him. Did he imagine that?

_You realize that I have to punish you now, after what you tried to do._

The memory of the words come to him in Rodrigo’s voice and Colt feels an instant panic start to grow deep inside of him. Colt tried to drown himself in water to get himself clean. Rodrigo stopped him.

Papa is angry with him.

He’s still a little groggy as these memories come to him. He’s still coming off of the high that the medicine puts him in. That and an intense fear are the reason for the tears suddenly forming in his eyes and pooling into the quilt beneath him.

For a long time Colt is alone with this fear, long enough for him to panic several times – an echo of his first time waking up in this room. When he hears the lock on the door, Rodrigo’s dress shoes on the floor and feels the mattress shift behind him, Colt doesn’t even try to look back at the older man.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Rodrigo’s palm pets at Colt’s ass. “You tried to leave me, Colt.”

“I’m sorry. I was high. I didn’t...”

“You are mine and you tried to leave me. I am extremely disappointed in you.”

Colt doesn’t say anything. He simply nods his understanding. He knows all about being a disappointment.

Rodrigo roughly squeezes one ass cheek which he then proceeds to slap. “You realize that I must punish you. Otherwise you will never learn right from wrong.”

Again, Colt nods. He understands punishment as well, although his father never talked him through it in the same way that Rodrigo is doing.

“While your medicine was in effect, I cleaned you.” Rodrigo says, then presses a digit to Colt’s perineum. “I cleaned you out, in here.”

Colt feels the same panic as before, only heightened. The scent of Rodrigo’s soap on his skin had alerted him to being washed. Now he knows that Rodrigo cleaned the lubricant from inside of him. He thinks back to the garage with Marc.

Marc. Why is he thinking of Marc less and less? Why does he only think of Marc when it involves pain or his own cleanliness?

The bed shifts behind him and he hears Rodrigo’s belt buckle come open and dress slacks undone.

His breathing is quick and sharp. His chest feels tight and his head is still swimming in the remnants of his medicine.

“I’m sorry.” Colt whispers again. “Please don’t… I’m sorry.”

The words fall on deaf ears, as he knows they will. Rodrigo isn’t one to let things slide and Colt knows this. He’s witnessed it first-hand. He’s living that truth in multiple ways.

There’s no way to really describe the pain of being fucked dry. From the first press of Rodrigo’s thick cock into his hole to the stretch and intrusion of the member inside of him, it’s intensely painful.

Colt hears the words ‘please no’ but it doesn’t sound like his own voice. He cries out as the older man pushes deeper into him and he feels like he’s being ripped open from the inside out.

He closes his eyes tight and buries his face in the quilt, making the sounds of a wounded animal for Rodrigo and unable to really stop himself. His mind, without even having any medicine today, takes him to his dark cloud where things are supposed to feel good.

Maybe he shouldn’t want the medicine. Maybe he shouldn’t want the solitude of that cloud. It’s the safest place he can think of in the moment and so he imagines he’s there while the pain lasts and even into the part where Rodrigo’s pre-cum makes it a little easier.

Colt only comes back into the present when all is said and done, when he can feel Rodrigo petting at his ass, at his back, up his spine to his shoulders until one hand cups the back of Colt’s neck and squeezes hard.

“Will you ever try to leave me again, Colt?”

Colt shakes his head, the quilt beneath him wet with his own tears and saliva.

“Answer me.”

“No, I won’t try to leave you.”

Rodrigo leans down over him and kisses at his temple. “Good boy, Colt. Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience while life was busy.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt isn’t in his twin sized bed in the small room. This mattress, this comforter, is much softer. He feels Marc behind him, an arm draped heavily around his waist, and he tries to stay very still so that he doesn’t wake him before he has to be awake for work.

He wants to stay right here. Forever.

It seems that Marc is already awake though, morning arousal slides between his ass cheeks and Colt shifts to welcome it.

He waits, expecting Marc to ask him something like ‘are you ready, Vanilla?’ and he’ll say yes. He’ll say yes so fast just like he should have done the first time.

“Tell me you want it, Colt.”

That isn’t Marc’s voice. His sluggish mind catches up to his present. This is Rodrigo’s bed. This is Rodrigo’s room. Rodrigo is behind him, pushing into his ass. Colt switches gears. No one is going to ask him if he’s ready. No one is going to call him vanilla. No one is going to absolutely adore him the way Marc used to.

Still, his body is already answering for him, his hips pushing back to welcome the intrusion.

“I want it.” He whispers.

He whispers it again and again as the days become something intangible that he can no longer count. He wants it. He wants it again. Colt wants it because he’s a good boy and it makes Rodrigo happy for him to want it. He wants it because it feels good.

**

After his nearly drowning himself in the bathtub, Colt is never alone. He’s never in his right mind either. Rodrigo keeps pumping the ‘medicine’ into his veins, more and more often. There are times when he suspects that he’s been hallucinating. More drugs are given to him before he can fully grasp that truth.

He sees Marc less and less, hallucination or not, which is for the best. Colt is never clean enough for Marc. He’s dirty. He’s filthy. He’s used.

Colt’s father fucks him. Papa fucks him. Colt lets them. Sometimes they’re one and the same. Sometimes Rodrigo makes him call him Papa. Lately, he’s started making Colt call him daddy, which is even more confusing in Colt’s consistently drugged mind.

His body easily shifts to any position they want him in. Mostly, they like him in the trained position from the twin bed in the small room. Colt thinks he likes that position best too. He doesn’t have to look at them. He doesn’t have to watch his father fuck him when he shows up.

The hallucinations never stop. Colt doesn’t know reality from fiction anymore. Colt tries to be very good for Rodrigo through all of it. He doesn’t want to be punished again.

Three times, Rodrigo tries to make Colt play the Stradivarius for him. He’s too drugged out to make anything beautiful. Two of the three times he cries because he isn’t worthy to hold the instrument and he can’t find music to play. The other time he just stares at it, unable to understand why he’s lost the ability to play, unable to understand why he’s lost such an important part of himself.

Rodrigo seems more and more agitated with things that Colt doesn’t know and can’t possibly understand. Colt tries to keep the older man happy with him. The older man holds terse, whispered conversations with his men.

Daddy is angry a lot.

Rodrigo has quit letting him have baths daily. They come every few days when Rodrigo decides that he stinks. Colt’s skin always itches where it’s coated in cum. He’s so dirty.

Food is coming less and less as well. Every few days Colt is given one of the thin sandwiches to eat. Most of the time he’s so damn hungry.

He’s glad that he’s suspended so high even if he’s in a cage, even if he’s kept. He’s glad because only people who like to fuck and touch filthy things like him come to this place anymore. No one else can see him.

Colt doesn’t want anyone else to see him.

**

Colt’s mouth is full of cock. It isn’t Marc’s. In fact, he hasn’t seen Marc in awhile. It makes sense. Marc is too good for him. Marc would want him clean and unused, as Papa says. Colt is neither of those things. Colt can’t get out of his own mind.

“Drink it up, my dirty little boy.” Rodrigo coos as his spunk fills Colt’s mouth.

It feels like he’s gotten good at this, at giving blow jobs and drinking cum. He drinks Papa’s now, his tongue then licking to clean the man off just as Colt knows the older man likes for him to do.

Rodrigo looks down on him as Colt finishes cleaning and Colt looks down to the wispy clouds he’s kneeling on. His fingertips glide over the gray, causing the wisps to shift with his touch. Colt grins lazily at the sight.

“Do you feel good, Colt?”

“Yes.”

His chin is grabbed so that his attention is drawn back up to Rodrigo. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.” The person holding his chin alternates between Rodrigo and Colt’s real father, garnering a flinch from Colt. He still expects his father to hit him and is surprised when he only lightly caresses over his cheek.

“I take good care of you, don’t I?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Come up into my lap.”

Colt crawls up onto the love seat with Rodrigo. He settles awkwardly into his lap, feeling small even though he’s as tall as he is. He feels like a child.

“Good boy, Colt.”

Images of a man with dead eyes with his cock hanging out of his pants flash before Colt’s eyes, the sound of a gun with a silencer sounds in the distance. Colt looks at his hand and finds a gun there. When he blinks, the gun is gone.

Rodrigo’s hand is on his cock, slowly stroking. “You’re starting to smell, my filthy boy – but I think you can go another day without a bath, don’t you?”

Colt nods. As much as he wants to drown himself in the bathtub trying to get clean, he knows that he won’t get to do so until Rodrigo says he can.

“Very good. It’s hard for a dirty boy like you to be really clean, isn’t it? Another day won’t matter.”

“It won’t matter.” Colt reaches up to twist a lock of Rodrigo’s hair around one index finger. He remembers Marc doing this with his own hair. Rodrigo’s hair feels coarser than his own.

“You belong to your daddy, don’t you?”

Again, Colt nods. His chest feels tight when he agrees, like his whole self doesn’t like that answer even though he knows it’s true.

“I have a proposition for you.” Rodrigo says. “Your daddy wants to keep you. Forever.”

The incessant petting at his cock is starting to get to him. It feels good. Colt cants his head back and looks up at the stars. The stars look strange, all golden instead of white. His breath catches in his throat.

“Colt what did I just say?”

“My daddy wants to keep me.” Colt says.

“Your daddy wants to love you.” Rodrigo stops touching Colt’s hard length and puts the hand to Colt’s cheek to bring Colt’s gaze back to him. “But you have to choose to stay.”

Something beyond the artificial high he’s riding tries to push its way onto his dark cloud in the night sky. “What?”

“No one wants you, as dirty as you are, Colt. You understand that, don’t you?”

Colt nods. He understands that all too well. Sometimes it’s all he thinks about.

“Marc is not coming for you. That’s his decision and you have to understand that as well.”

His insides suddenly feel twisted up. No wonder he hasn’t seen Marc in awhile. A part of him had started to wonder, but another part of him had also still hoped.

“But… but he said...”

“His distaste for what you are now makes me responsible for you.” Rodrigo’s fingers slide down Colt’s chest. “Now, I can throw you out and you can hope someone will take care of you, give you your medicine and fuck you and let you try to get clean. I can also make you mine. I want you to choose.”

“But...” Rodrigo’s features turn blurry and Colt feels tears sliding down his face. Is it raining? He looks up to his golden blanket of stars. It’s not raining. Colt wishes it would rain.

“Be a good boy, Colt.” His father, his real father, is now telling him as his fingertips slide down his abdomen and lower. “Make a decision or you’ll make daddy angry.”

Colt’s past and present morph together into one confusing cluster fuck. When daddy is angry, there’s pain. There are beatings and the sex hurts.

Marc doesn’t want him. Marc is never here anymore. Colt is too dirty for Marc.

Here, he can stay on his cloud where only Rodrigo and his father get to see him. He can hide away from the rest of the world. No one else will have to see how messed up he is, how filthy he is, how used he is. Out in the world, they’ll all see.

“Okay...” He whispers as the stars above start to wink out of existence. Colt reaches up to touch them.

“What does ‘okay’ mean, Colt?”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“You belong to your daddy?”

“Yes. I belong to you.”

“And you will strive to make your daddy happy.”

Colt lets the stars go and leans in to nuzzle his lips at Rodrigo’s neck. “I’ll make you happy. Do you wanna fuck me?”

“I do want to fuck you, my dirty boy. Thank you for asking.”

“You can stay on the cloud with me… and I won’t be alone.”

There’s a fist in his hair, pulling him back so he can see Rodrigo’s lips curled in an amused smile. Rodrigo looks most like Marc when he smiles. It’s crooked, although not as crooked as Marc’s. “Are we on a cloud, Colt?”

Colt nods. “High in the sky where no one can see us. The stars are dying though. They won’t be here anymore.”

“Pity them. You don’t need stars.” Rodrigo says. “You only need me.”

“I only need you.”

**

Time passes. In a peripheral way, Colt knows that time passes even if he can’t count the days anymore. It feels like a long time. Rodrigo has shaved his beard away not long ago – all the better because it was a mess. Now there’s a light stubble growing back in. It makes him think of Marc’s carefully maintained stubble. 

Colt was surprised at the gauntness of his features. He’s lost a lot of weight. He isn’t sure that he recognizes the man in the mirror anytime he catches a glimpse.

Rodrigo is still frustrated on the daily, more and more as time goes on. Colt can’t understand why.

Most of the time, Rodrigo tries not to take his frustrations out on Colt. Sometimes the sex is rough enough to leave bruises. Sometimes the bite marks are deeper, more likely to scar. Sometimes Colt hurts when he’s with Daddy.

Colt is in an in-between stage where he’s partially come down from the extreme high the medicine gives him and his mind is foggy as it would be when he usually wakes up. Something has woken him up earlier than usual. He looks back to see Rodrigo undressing near the closet and realizes that the older man must have gone out while Colt was sleeping.

He shifts on Rodrigo’s king sized bed, face down, stretching his arms above his head with his hands clasped and spreading and bending his knees up underneath him. Getting himself in this position is so easy at this point. It’s routine.

The mattress shifts and dips and Colt feels Rodrigo’s hand petting over his ass. He pushes his ass back against that now familiar touch.

“Roll over onto your back.”

Colt does as instructed and Rodrigo straddles his hips. There’s something cool pressed to his lips and Colt lazily opens his mouth to let it in. He can just make out the outline of a gun. He gasps and tries to turn away. Rodrigo’s other hand grabs his chin and holds him in place with the gun in his mouth.

“Suck on it, Colt. Show Daddy what a good boy you are.”

His tongue slides over the cool barrel in his mouth and he begins to suck on it. Rodrigo won’t hurt him. Papa takes care of him.

After a time of Colt’s sucking on the barrel of the gun, Rodrigo leans down over him in the dark. “I’m trying to decide if you’re worth my time, worth the headache you’re causing me. Yes, you are handsome, even now, filthy and emaciated as you are… I do enjoy fucking with you and fucking you. I love how malleable your father made you – not his cruelty to you, mind you, but the result of said cruelty. The trouble you cause and my inability to off you and be done with it - I might be just as obsessed with you as...”

Rodrigo snaps the safety off on the side of the gun and Colt is just aware enough of what happened through his drugged haze to feel his heartbeat ricochet in his chest. He sucks harder, laps at the barrel even more, emits a soft groan in an attempt to show Rodrigo that he can still make him happy, no matter the unknown reasons for the headache he’s giving him.

Colt can just barely see the wicked grin curling on the older man’s lips. Rodrigo is pleased. The grip on his chin softens and Rodrigo’s fingertips slide down over the side of Colt’s neck to his chest. Colt continues to suck at the barrel even without being held in place.

“Do you want to stay with me, Colt?”

There’s nowhere else for him to go. Rodrigo has made that very clear. Colt nods and hums around the barrel.

“You want to be mine?”

Again, there is no other option here. Papa takes care of him. Colt nods again.

The gun is taken out of his mouth. It rests in Rodrigo’s hand where his fist is pressed into the mattress next to Colt’s head. It isn’t pressed against his head, but Colt knows the barrel is pointed at him. Rodrigo’s lips are on his. Colt kisses him and feels teeth bite into his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You’re my dirty little boy.”

“I’m your dirty little boy.” Colt whispers against Rodrigo’s lips. “Please keep me. Please? I wanna stay with you.”

“It’s getting harder to keep you.”

Colt briefly wonders why that is, but his mind isn’t in a state where he can examine it too closely. He just knows that there’s no other place for him but where he’s at. The gun makes the options even more clear: either stay with Rodrigo or die.

There’s a voice in Colt’s mind that tells him that death wouldn’t be so bad. Colt tries to ignore it. It’s difficult to ignore.

“Why? Why is it hard to keep me?” Colt asks. “Have I done somethin’ wrong?”

“No, not you. Never you.” Rodrigo says, lips on Colt’s again. They kiss. “You’re my very good boy. You would never upset your Papa, would you?”

Colt shakes his head. “Never.”

Rodrigo is smiling at him with approval and Colt feels glad for that approval. He hears the snap of the safety slipped back in place.

“You stink, Colt.”

“I’m your dirty boy.” Colt answers automatically. Rodrigo likes him dirty.

“You can’t ever get clean.”

Colt nods his head in agreement, knowing that to be true. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t ever get clean.

“Do you want more medicine?” Rodrigo asks. “Do you want to be up in the sky again?”

“Yes. Please? I wanna fly.” Colt says hands sliding over Rodrigo’s sides up to his chest. “Will you fly with me? We can fuck. I can make you happy.”

“For awhile, yes.” Rodrigo reaches to the nightstand to get the box with the vial and needle in it. “I’ll stay with you for a little while.”

Colt prepares to fly.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

“They’re not going to stop, Rodrigo.”

“They want what I have; money and power.”

“And him.”

“And him. Your point?”

“You are losing two out of the three, Boss.”

“I always get what I want.”

“You want him this bad? Hey. I’m just trying to give you good advice, Rodrigo. They’re angry. You could give them what they want and still have money and power.”

“Tell me, Michael. Do I look like a man who folds under pressure to you?”

“No, Rodrigo. You don’t.”

“Does that little slut on my bed look like he wants to be anywhere but here right now?”

“I’m sure that between your treatment and the Poison you’ve given him, he-”

There’s the sound of a hit, skin hitting skin, Colt knows this sound well. It makes him flinch. Something heavy falls to the floor.

“Rodrigo. I’m trying to help you! This was supposed to be temporary to get your nephew in line and you know it!”

“Hold him down, on his knees.” Papa says.

Colt has been lazily listening to this conversation. He’s still so damn high he can’t really make sense of it. He’s on his cloud. Why is someone besides Rodrigo on this cloud? He stretches his body and feels the dildo still stuffing his ass full. Rodrigo had been playing with it in his ass earlier. It’s still there.

Shame that someone else is seeing him like this tries to infiltrate his psyche. He pushes it away. Up on his cloud, nothing can touch him.

Who is the slut Rodrigo is talking about. Is he a slut? His stomach roils uncomfortably at the thought.

Colt trails his fingertips through the dark gray wisps of the cloud he’s laying on. He likes his cloud. He wishes the intruders would leave.

A hand touches his shoulder and squeezes. “Get up, Colt. I know you’re awake.”

It takes some effort to push himself up in this state, but when Daddy tells him to do something, he does it. Colt gets up to his knees, thinking that the earlier knee comment might have been directed at him in some way. He sees Rodrigo in front of him.

“Turn and look over there.”

Colt shifts on the bed, finding one of the men who usually guards him on his knees on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. Two more of Rodrigo’s men are holding weapons on the man. Colt has memory flashes of the time Marc hit him. He thinks about all the times before that that his father had hurt him.

Suddenly the man behind him is his father. He whispers in Colt’s ear as he places a gun in Colt’s hand. “If you want to stay with your daddy, you will kill this man.”

“What?” The man says with a shake of his head. “Rodrigo, no. You’ve known me for years. I’ve always been your crew. I have Selma and the kids!”

The world blurs and then comes back into focus. Colt looks down at the gun in his hand. His father is behind him. He could kill him just like he did that man in the basement… Gustav.

He thinks the words: Fucking fags…

Again, his stomach roils with a nervous energy.

Colt hums and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to do what Rodrigo is telling him to do. These people aren’t supposed to be on his cloud. He’s supposed to be safe up here, as safe as anyone can be with Rodrigo. Colt stares at the gun in his hand. He’s too high for this.

“Be a good little boy.” Rodrigo’s hand presses at the back of Colt’s elbow to push him toward raising the weapon.

Colt is aiming the gun. His daddy is back, and he clicks off the safety. Colt remembers how Rodrigo had decided to keep him alive the other night when Colt had sucked on the gun for him. It was this gun, he thinks.

He remembers thinking that Rodrigo was going to kill him. He remembers thinking that that wouldn’t be so bad. An image of turning the gun on himself flashes in his mind. Colt imagines the sound of the silencer when the gun is fired.

“Colt, do as I say. He wants to take you from me.”

Daddy sounds tense, as if anger is budding deep inside of him. This man is probably a part of the problem, someone who’s making it difficult for his daddy to keep him.

“Shoot, Colt.” Rodrigo says. “Or I will be very angry.”

“Is he worth this, Rodrigo? You’re losing everyone because of him!” The man continues to plead. “Please. If you’d killed Marco when you had the chance then none of this-”

Again, the bullet is silenced, not much of a sound at all. Colt pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced the man’s heart.

Killed Marco? No. Colt doesn’t want Marc dead. Even if Marc doesn’t want him, Colt doesn’t want him dead. This man wanted Marc dead. Now he can’t kill Marc.

Rodrigo’s hand slides down Colt’s arm to his hand, trying to pull the gun from Colt’s hand. “Very good, my dirty boy. Now let go.”

Colt doesn’t let go. There are people on his cloud that he doesn’t want here. They see how dirty he is. They see how used he is.

Kill Marc? No. 

Colt aims and fires again, getting another one of the guards in the chest. The man screams, the shot not fatal as the other one was. The remaining guard raises his gun to Colt.

Rodrigo yells, pointing a finger at the guard. “Don’t you dare.”

Colt is surprised that his daddy isn’t saying this to him. He’s telling his man not to shoot Colt. Rodrigo is protecting him. They both hold their position, both aiming at one another.

“You don’t belong here.” Colt tells the man, the world going sideways again before it straightens out. “Only us. No one else.”

“Leave. Get this dead traitor and the injured out of here.” His Daddy says.

Colt watches as a dead body is dragged across the clouds and taken away. The injured man mutters a string of curses as he lays there, waiting. There’s blood on his cloud, dripping through the gray wisps.

Rodrigo pets at Colt’s arm. “Give it to me, Colt. You did very well.”

Slowly, Colt releases his grip on the gun he’d been holding so tight. He thinks he hears birds chirping and he lays back into the softness beneath him on his stomach to listen to them sing. Music. Colt misses music. Music isn’t his anymore. It doesn’t belong to him like it once did.

There’s the sound of footsteps, dragging across carpet as a man continues to curse, a door closing, then the cloud dips and Colt knows that Rodrigo is joining him. Colt starts to get himself in the right position, but his Papa’s hand smooths up his spine.

“Stay like this, my dirty boy.”

Colt feels the dildo pushed further into him coupled with a painful bite at his shoulder, another bite at the back of his neck. The bites hurt, but he’s come to accept that they make Rodrigo happy. The dildo is pulled out and pushed back in.

Colt makes a sound deep in his throat, body shifting to try to move against it as Rodrigo fucks him with it.

He looks down from the edge of his cloud as he feels pleasure at being fucked. He thinks he can see all the people looking up at him.

“They’re like ants.”

“Who is?”

“Everyone else. Not you and me. Everyone else. They’re so tiny.”

“And what do we do with ants?” Rodrigo asks, his amusement evident. “We kill them, through whatever means we can. If they’re not with us, they’re nothing but insects beneath our feet.”

“Do you love me?”

“Your daddy loves you very much, Colt.”

Colt laughs even as the dildo is pulled out of him and Rodrigo’s cock takes its place. Love is toxic. But his Daddy says that toxic love is the best way to die.

The sound of a silenced gunshot plays over and over again in his mind.

Colt wants to die.

Rodrigo fucks him hard then, a pounding that’s far different from his normal slowed pace. Colt comes up to his knees just a bit to give his Papa a better angle, to better push back against each thrust. The sounds of skin slapping against skin as he’s impaled again and again echoes in Colt’s ears.

It feels so good.

It feels like an earthquake on his dark little cloud. Colt thinks he likes it, the danger of it, taking on Rodrigo’s obvious frustrations through this frantic, rushed sex. He’s plenty lubed, and if not for that it would remind him of what Marc had done with him in the warehouse. He misses Marc. Marc doesn’t want him.

“Stay present, Colt.” The words are said as if Rodrigo can tell when Colt’s unfocused mind drifts away from him. A grip in his hair is pulling his head back at an awkward angle while Rodrigo fucks him. “Who is fucking you right now?”

“You are.”

“Who am I?”

“Daddy. My daddy’s fuckin’ me right now.”

Rodrigo chuckles and continues to pound him hard. “Yes, good. Touch yourself and think about how I take care of you.”

Colt reaches beneath him to touch his own cock, to pull and stroke and fondle himself as he’s fucked. He thinks about how his daddy lets him bathe and brings him a sandwich every few days. He thinks about the medicine that lets him separate himself from the rest of the world. He thinks about how he couldn’t exist anywhere else because people would see him as filthy as he is. His Daddy keeps him sheltered from that, hidden away, as he should be.

He feels his Papa’s spill in his ass and is pulled up to his knees with a tug on his hair. He sits back in Rodrigo’s lap and the older man takes over for him, jerking off Colt’s hard cock until Colt spills as well.

Rodrigo holds him like that for awhile before he takes his time leaving bruises all over Colt’s skin, marks that he makes with his mouth and teeth.

**

Colt is in pain. Even as high as he is, he’s in pain. He’s on his knees, his hands white-knuckle the headboard as Rodrigo sits behind him and uses a small scalpel to cut into his skin at the small of his back. He uses a wet cloth to wipe away the blood, then cuts more.

Cut. Wipe. Cut. Wipe. Cut. Wipe.

“You are being very brave, Colt.”

The words ‘be brave’ push into Colt’s mind. He doesn’t want to think of those words for so many reasons.

“I did not know if you could take this much pain and stay still. I should have known. You are well suited for taking pain when you have to. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes. I can take it.”

“It’s good that we gave you a bath today so that this will have a few days to heal.” Rodrigo says. Cut. Wipe. Cut. Wipe. “Do you feel clean, Colt?”

Colt shakes his head. He’s never clean.

“Answer me.”

“I’m dirty.”

“You’re my dirty boy.” Cut. Wipe.

Colt nods, then remembers to answer out loud. “I’m your dirty boy.”

A butterfly lands on his arm and Colt stares at it for a minute, wondering why such a beautiful thing is up here. He waves his hands near it, to make it fly away. The butterfly stays. A few more butterflies land on him and he cants his head back and smiles. Butterflies fly above him, hundreds of them.

“My dad used to cut me sometimes.”

“He was cruel. This, what I am giving you, it will be beautiful.”

Butterflies land on his face and Colt laughs again. The butterflies make him feel beautiful, covering up all the filthy parts of him. “I’m beautiful.”

Rodrigo chuckles at him again. “Yes, Colt. You are beautiful. And now there will be no doubt which Fiarri you belong to.”

**

“I’m not going to kill any of them if I don’t have to.” A whispered voice says. “But I’ll do what I can to clear a path for all of you. What’s happening here is fucked up, man.”

Colt can’t remember the last time he’s seen a clear path. Everything right now is muddled and messy. Nothing is easy. There are people in his room, guards he thinks. Rodrigo is out. Colt is too high to really understand what he’s hearing.

“That’s all we’re asking.” Another voice says, just as hushed as the first. “You know this isn’t right, what Rodrigo is doing. If he can do this to Marco’s partner, he can do it to any of our families or whatever.”

“I know. We’ll do it within the week. I’ll let you know when.”

“You can’t stay here afterward. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna stay here. Rodrigo’s gone loco. He’s not who he was.”

“No. He was always this. You have a place with us though. Come join...”

Colt hears the footsteps and the whispered conversation fade away and is glad for it. Staying here is dangerous, just like the man said. People get hurt. People get lost. People die.

He rolls over onto his back and looks up at a starless sky. It’s so dark. Colt likes that it’s dark. No one can see him in the dark. His stomach growls with hunger and he laughs because it sounds funny to him.

When his stomach growls again, he closes his eyes and lightly hums a tune that he makes up as he goes. He imagines he can still play the violin and that he’s still good at it. An orchestral accompaniment joins in with him instrument by instrument until he has a full symphony in his mind to cover up the protestations of hunger in his stomach.

Rodrigo will feed him eventually.

Daddy was mad today. Colt’s muscles ache and his skin still stings from rough sex and bite marks and where the older man had carved into his flesh recently. Colt has no idea why Rodrigo was angry. When he asked if he’d done something wrong, always quick to take the blame, the man had said that Colt was perfect, that letting Rodrigo have his way with him helped to make things better.

The Fiarri’s have tempers, he thinks. All of them do. Colt has taken the brunt of that temper for two of them now. He still prefers Marc’s for his ability to manage it better than Rodrigo’s.

He misses Marc. Colt wonders what he’s doing right now, if he’s found another boyfriend. His mind gets tripped up on the idea of Marc’s being with someone else. The imagined symphony stops. His stomach growls.

Someone enters the room and Colt looks over to see Rodrigo standing there looking at him. Colt moves into the position that Papa loves the most. He feels the cloud beneath him shift and a hand on his ass.

This is his life now. Colt doesn’t think it’s any life at all.

While Papa fucks him, Colt starts to think about all the best ways to die.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Daddy has just fucked him so good. Colt feels the epilogue of his own orgasm, his skin sizzling. The sun shines down on him so bright. It isn’t warming his skin. This sun has no warmth.

Colt is numb from the inside out. He thinks it’s better that way.

Rodrigo’s bed is sitting in a field. Not far away is a run-down trailer house. Colt recognizes it. He’s watched it the entire time Papa fucked him. It’s where he grew up. He’s watched the worn curtains pushed aside, presumably his mother looking out at him.

Why was she watching dad fuck him? She always watched as he was beaten, never saying a word. Colt supposes it makes sense that she would watch this too.

Colt buries his face in the sheets beneath him, pushing away any embarrassment trying to ink it’s way into his psyche. 

His dad has left him. Papa has left him. Colt knows he’s not alone. There’s a man standing not too far away watching after him. Colt drifts away from the trailer, from the home that was a hell for him back into another version of hell.

He lies there for awhile until he hears the door to Rodrigo’s bedroom open.

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to stand up, Colt. Come on. You gotta help me out a little bit.”

Colt lets hands pull him up from the bed. Is he finally getting a bath? Please let him get a bath. Maybe there’s food for him. Colt is so damn hungry.

“My God, he’s given him the heavy stuff. That sadistic asshole...”

“Poison.”

A stranger is in the room, an older man who looks familiar in so many ways. He’s still a stranger to Colt. He doesn’t belong here and Colt decides to tell him so.

“You don’t belong here.”

“Neither do you.” The older man says.

Jacob is also here. Jacob gave him his tattoo. He watched Colt dance with Marc. “Are you gonna watch me dance? I can’t dance right now.”

“I know… I know, Colt. I’m so sorry. Come on. Come with us.” Jacob holds one of Colt’s arms over his shoulder. The older man on the other side does the same and they start moving through the house.

Colt isn’t any help to the two men. He tries, but he only slows them down.

“He smells like sex.” Jacob says. “Marco’s gonna lose it.”

“Marco is not in a position to… lose it.” The stranger replies.

They’re walking over the clouds and Colt looks down as his feet disappear into wisps of dark gray. He thinks he hears thunder. There are bodies lying on the cloud, sinking into the gray wisps and falling to the earth below. 

Ants. They look like falling ants.

He thinks he feels lightning tickle his skin and he laughs.

It’s suddenly very bright, but not the artificial bright that has sometimes blinded him. This is real. It’s the sun. It’s the real sun. It’s warm. A breeze brushes past his hair and skin.

Sebastian is in front of him. “Holy fuck… what did he do to him?”

“I don’t know but we need to keep Marco calm.” Jacob says. “You’re usually the best at calming him down.”

“Don’t fall through the clouds.” Colt tells Sebastian. He likes Sebastian. He doesn’t want him to get hurt. “Some people can’t stay up here. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I won’t fall, Colt. I promise.” Sebastian assures him, then to Jacob and the other man. “This way. Come on, hurry.”

There’s more walking where Colt is mostly carried by the two men, the three of them following Sebastian. Colt misses most of the scenery, tilting his face up, eyes closed to the sun. It feels so good on his skin. It doesn’t even occur to him that he’s naked out in the world beyond Rodrigo’s home.

There’s a new person standing in front of him, but Colt doesn’t want to quit looking at the real sun up above. “Shit, he’s so thin. Baby, what did he do to you? Did he not feed him? What the fuck?”

“Marco, get him in the car.” Sebastian says. 

“Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

Hands are on either side of Colt’s face. His eyes hurt and can’t see from staring at the sun.

“He gave him...”

“He gave him Poison. Colt doesn’t know where he is right now.” The stranger is talking about him again. Colt thinks he should know who the stranger is. “Let’s get him in the car, Marco.”

Nothing happens and Colt laughs, the breeze tickling his skin again. “It’s gonna rain. I hope it rains.”

“Marco!” Jacob yells. “We can’t stay here. There’s no time.”

Colt is awkwardly put into a small cavern. It’s cold and dry and he misses the sun on his skin. Someone is holding him tight and brushing his hair back from his face.

“It’s alright, baby. We’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, okay?”

It sounds like Marc, but that can’t be right. Colt closes his eyes and buries himself against the person holding him. Marc always disappears. He wants to make this last as long as possible.

He hears the roar of an engine and he knows they’re moving. His cloud is gone. There’s just this loud cavern where Marc is holding him. Colt would rather be here than in Rodrigo’s soft bed.

“It won’t be long before Rodrigo notices he’s gone.” Someone, not Marc, says.

Colt feels hands sliding over his skin and he leans into the touch. He has a momentary fear that Marc is slipping away from him, that it’s his dad touching him, that it’s Papa – maybe both of them. Colt gets confused about the both of them.

“Don’t disappear.” Colt tells Marc. “You can stay. Don’t you wanna stay with me? I’ll be clean. I’ll try to be clean.”

“I’m right here, Colt. I’m right here.” Marc says. “They’re guarding the house. No way he’s making a move there in a residential.”

“We’ve got the numbers. We don’t have the firepower.” The strange voice says.

Jacob answers. “I’m working on that. We’ll have the firepower soon… hopefully soon enough before Rodrigo decides he wants payback.”

When Marc speaks again, Colt leans in closer to it. He wants to be that voice. He wants to hide in it. 

“Rodrigo didn’t fucking feed him. I can feel his fucking bones, everywhere. Why would he do that? Why would that fucker do that?”

Colt feels the burn of the angry words. Like a match has been lit over his skin, they race with a slowly intensifying heat.

“Probably because he wanted you to see him like this.” The strange voice answers. “That’s how he thinks. He decided he wanted Colt, but when he knew there was a possibility he wouldn’t get what he wanted, he did this to him… for you.”

Sebastian has been sitting quietly on the other side of Marc. Now he speaks. “They said once he knew you were making moves, he changed. This is probably his retaliation for what you’ve been doing. You knew this was the only way though… You have him now, that’s what counts, Marco.”

“Are these bite marks?” Marc asks angrily as if he hasn’t listened to anything anyone else has said. He screams with rage into the cavern. “Fuck! I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

The curse echoes around Colt and rattles deep inside of him. His skin is scorching hot. Colt draws in a deep breath and tries to find Marc again. Marc won’t let him burn. Marc won’t let him become scorched earth.

Jacob looks back again. “Marco, keep your head straight.”

“He’s crazy, Marco.” Sebastian says. “That’s why we need you to keep your head. We have to play this smart. You made these moves against him and now you have to lead. We’re following you, man. You’ve gotta keep your cool.”

“Keep cool.” Colt says. “Keep cool or we’ll burn. We’ll burn. You’ll burn us all, Marc.”

The arms around him tighten and he thinks that’s the only thing keeping him and this entire cavern from going up in flames.

**

It’s raining. Colt told them it was going to rain. He could feel it deep in his bones. The rain is warm and comfortable. It smells like soap and shampoo and conditioner. He feels a soft washcloth drawn over his skin.

Marc is still with him, taking great care in washing every inch of Colt’s body, every strand of hair, every nook and cranny. He’s especially careful at the small of Colt’s back where the scabs are still healing, where Rodrigo had carved into his skin. He hears Marc mutter a string of curses under his breath.

Colt tilts his face up into the rain. “I love the rain.”

“I know you do. Does it feel good, Vanilla?”

A smile spreads over Colt’s lips and he mouths the word ‘Vanilla’. Marc always called him that. This is the best hallucination he’s had. They’ve all felt real, but this one especially so. Colt wants to stay here. “It feels good. Am I gettin’ clean? Am I clean enough for you?”

Marc combs his fingernails gently through the light stubble on Colt’s cheeks. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, you’re clean. I got him off of you.”

“I love you.” Colt says. “I should’ve said I love you.”

The rain stops and Marc is holding either side of his face. Marc kisses him then and Colt returns the kiss quickly before Marc can pull away, before it disappears, before the reality of his situation comes back. 

“You said it now, Vanilla.” Marc says. “You said it now.”

**

Colt is laid back on a bed. He lives on beds these days so it feels good to be where he belongs. Marc is only a few feet away, but when he turns to face Colt with a pair of cut off sweatpants in his hands, it isn’t Marc anymore… mostly.

Papa is there, then Marc is, then Papa, the visage flickers back and forth between the two and Colt decides to err on the side of caution rather than risk being punished. 

Colt instinctively rolls over, face down. He stretches his arms together above his head and gets up on his knees, folding his legs under him and spreading his knees apart.

He waits for Rodrigo to pet his ass. He waits to be told what a good boy he is. He waits to be fucked.

The bed dips beside him and a hand slides up his spine. It’s Marc’s voice he hears. Marc’s voice is tight with barely controlled anger. “You’re gonna rest right now. None of this, alright? Not right now, not anymore.”

Still erring on the side of caution, Colt replies. “I want it.”

“Rest, Colt. You’re gonna rest right now.” Marc says. “Do what I say.”

He always does what Marc tells him to do. Now is no different. Colt sighs and stretches his legs back out to rest against the mattress. He’s weightless… Marc doesn’t want to fuck him. Colt waits for Rodrigo to come back to him. Marc doesn’t belong up here where Colt lives now.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Colt’s dark cloud feels like it’s lost some of its fluffiness. It’s still comfortable, it just isn’t as easy to exist on it as it was. He isn’t alone. Colt is never alone anymore – not since he almost died in the bathtub. He remembers how freeing it had been to let go and let the water rise above him and take him, how easy it was to breathe the water in.

He doesn’t think he could do that right now. He needs more medicine. Rodrigo will be in soon to give him more, at least he hopes so.

“How is he?”

“I don’t know… I think he was starting to come back down when he fell asleep.”

“It’s been almost eight weeks that Rodrigo had Colt? Almost two months? We don’t know how long or how much of the Poison he was given. It could be rough for him. He might need to detox.”

“I know. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna rip Rodrigo’s head from his body and-”

“He’s my brother.”

“And I’m your son.”

“I’m on your side, Marco. Rodrigo lost his way a long time ago. I saw it before any of you did.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just...”

“You never told me you were seeing someone and yet you seem very serious about this man.”

“He’s mine… like mom is yours. This one’s mine. And if you’re gonna give me hell about what gender I should be liking again, you can leave.”

“I’m not. I’ve begun to understand that you’re going to do what you’re going to do, consequences be damned.”

“Like father like son.”

“I suppose so. You have my temper, Marco. You have to learn to master and control it. The position you’re in now, it’s not safe to have a temper such as ours. Trust me, I know.”

There’s a long silence before Marc answers. “I’m so angry right now, Dad. I’m so fucking angry. He starved him. He gave him Poison. He carved a fucking ‘R’ into his back. Who knows what else he did to him? What am I supposed to do with that? I’m fucking pissed off and I want to break every bone in my Uncle’s body.”

“I understand. If he had done that to your mother… You know why most of Rodrigo’s men are now yours? Because they all understood that if he could do this to the person you love, he could do it to any of them. You have to be better than him to lead these men now, Marco.”

“So I’m supposed to just let it go? Fuck that.”

“No. I would never ask that of you. I would never ask you to let it go. What he did to Colt is horrendous and it cannot stand unchallenged. However, you must play your hand with thoughtfulness, my Son. You must be smart in all of your actions.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“I’ll help you. I wish you would have told us about him. I called your mother and told her what’s going on.”

“Fuck me...”

“She’s on her way over.”

“Fuuuuuck.”

“Get it out now, because if you curse in front of her she will have your hide and then I’ll take seconds for your having upset her.”

“I won’t curse in front of her. You know I won’t.”

“Good. You invited my interference when you asked for my help in overthrowing my brother. I helped you get Colt out of Rodrigo’s house. I promised your mother that I would keep no more secrets from her after I quit the game. Do you understand that?”

“I understand.”

“You understand why I had to call her?”

“Yeah, dad. I get it.”

“I will continue to talk to her about you and...”

“My living in sin cause I like men?”

“That isn’t fair. Perhaps she and I have handled it wrong, but I have come around and she will too.”

“Fair?” Marc smirks. “Yeah, she’s been real fair to me.”

“She still loves you. You are still our son.”

“Yeah, alright. If you say so. Her not talking to me and all the other shit is real loving, dad.”

“Give her time. She wants to try to understand your decisions. Let her try.” The man says. “This is Colt’s house?”

“This is our house. Together.”

“Your... boyfriend... is awake.”

Colt has been listening to this entire conversation with a distinct amount of detachment. His mind is as groggy as it always is after some time between having his medicine.

He’d thought he’d begun having dreams with Marc in them again, hallucinations, maybe, but Marc is sitting here next to him, holding a conversation with a man who looks like an older version of Marc and like a less terrifying version of Rodrigo. It’s the same man who was with Jacob at Rodrigo’s house.

He realizes he’s covered from the waist down with a sheet. He’s naked beneath the sheet, but it feels like it’s been so long since he’s been covered by anything. It feels odd.

“Hey, baby.”

Colt feels a kiss to the side of his brow. “Are you real?”

“I’m real. I’m right here.”

“I saw you a lot of times and you always disappear.”

“Not this time, Vanilla. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you remember when we danced? At that club?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I know I was really drunk but I liked that.” Colt smiles lazily and sees Marc give him a crooked grin in return.

“I liked it too. We can dance again sometime, alright?”

Can they? Colt doesn’t feel like he’ll ever dance again. He feels tears pool in his eyes. “Your uncle’s gonna kill me.”

“No.”

“He’s gonna kill me, Marc.”

Marc’s brow rests against Colt’s. “Shhh… no. He’s not. I won’t let that happen.”

“Do you wanna fuck me before he comes back? You can be my first today.”

Marc goes momentarily tense and quiet, a muscle in his jaw flexes and twitches. “No, not right now, baby. Not right now.”

The other man in the room speaks up. “He’s still high, Marco.”

Marc nods and kisses Colt’s lips. “Yeah, I get that. I get that.”

“Your mother brings food. It will be good for him. Mama’s home cooked food is always the best, eh?”

“Yeah, it’s always the best.”

Food is the last thing on Colt’s mind right now. All Colt can think is that he needs to be fucked and Marc won’t do it. Marc doesn’t want to do it. Marc is right next to him but he feels so far away.

And then there’s the most disturbing thought of them all: Rodrigo would fuck him and it would feel so damn good. Colt would like it. Colt wants it.

**

He’s in his bedroom. Colt is sitting up in his bed and looking around the room, a room he hadn’t been sure that he would ever see again. There’s a food tray over his lap and he’s eaten most of the chicken tomato soup that was in the bowl. It’s the first time he’s had anything but a random sandwich every few days in awhile. It’s delicious.

His mind still isn’t clear, not completely.

Marc is sitting next to him, watching him with an intensity that’s almost unnerving. “You can eat that last bit, can’t you?”

“I’m full.”

“Try, baby. Eat the last of the soup.”

Colt takes another spoonful up to his mouth and looks at Marc. “I can’t tell if this is real or not. I can’t tell if you’re real. Nothing feels real.”

“I’m real. This is real. Believe me.”

“I didn’t think you were coming for me. He made it sound like...”

“I killed the motherfuckers who broke into our house two days after he took you from me. I went to him and he said I had to do more.” Marc shakes his head. “He wasn’t satisfied. A day later I came to him with triple the amount of drugs they stole. He wasn’t satisfied.”

Three days in and Marc had killed the thieves and more than replaced the drugs? Rodrigo had lied to him. Rodrigo had planted lies and insecurities and Colt was stupid enough to start believing them as time moved by and his circumstances didn’t change.

Or maybe this is the lie.

“I tried to make him give you to me. Then it became clear that he wasn’t gonna let up.” Marc shakes his head. “Then we discovered that he was behind it. He paid a rival organization to steal the bag from here. I don’t know why he did it.”

“Because you are next in line to rule his empire.” Colt looks to the door to see the same man from earlier. “He wanted to take you down a peg in front of the organization. His gamble backfired. He’s lost over half of his men to you and possibly more as time goes by.”

“It’s gotta be more than that.” Marc answers. “He could’ve just offed me.”

Memories of a gun in his hand as Rodrigo’s men talked about killing Marc surfaces and Colt feels like he might throw up. His hands start to shake and he crosses his arms over his stomach to hide them.

Colt suddenly notices that there’s a flurry of activity beyond the bedroom door. There are people in his house. He feels like he’s been slow to catch up to everything since the last time he’d opened his eyes. Emmitt is moving from person to person, getting petted as he goes.

Emmitt is okay. Marc must have taken care of him.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Marc says, matter of fact, as easy as if he’s talking about the weather forecast.

The man at the doorway enters the bedroom. “I’m Marco’s father, Juan.”

Oh yeah, Marc’s father… Colt doesn’t like Marc’s father seeing him right now, like this. He’s dirty. He feels dirty. “Sir. I’m Colt.”

“I know. I’m glad that we can finally meet, although the circumstances leave something to be desired.” Juan says. “My brother is a sick man. I would apologize for him but I don’t feel as if it would suffice.”

“Everyone’s sick in some way.” Colt says, his experiences telling him that that’s more true than people like to admit.

Juan nods. “You are right. None of us are perfect. We are all sick in some way. Rodrigo is more so than most. I’m afraid you got caught up in his sickness.”

Colt only notices he’s scratching the track marks on the inside of one of his arms when Marc reaches out to put a hand over his to stop him. Marc kisses the side of his head.

Talk of sickness makes Colt think of his medicine. He’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need the medicine.

It’s hard to believe he’s really here.

His thoughts are scattered, all over the place with no direct line from one to the other.

“Are you enjoying my wife’s soup?” Juan asks, throwing Colt a lifeline to get him back onto a singular track.

Colt looks down to the bowl and nods. “It’s very good. Thank you… or thank her.”

“She should be back at some point and you will be able to thank her yourself.” Juan says. “I’m told your parents aren’t a part of your life.”

Colt shakes his head, thinking about how his father had fucked him with Rodrigo. Everything is confusing right now. His parents weren’t a part of his life. They aren’t.

“No siblings?”

“No.” Colt is glad to be able to answer something definitively. His parents only had him and he was both a surprise and a mistake.

“No extended family that we need to call to let them know what happened?”

Colt shakes his head again. There’s probably family out there, but none of them wanted anything to do with his parents and Colt was vicariously shunned because of who his parents were.

Marc’s hand is at the back of his neck, gently petting through his hair there. “He’s just got me, Dad.”

“And now he has all of us, whether he wants us or not.”

“He’s a Fiarri.” Marc says.

Colt says nothing, knowing it to be true. The problem is that he has no idea which Fiarri he belongs to anymore. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy. Nothing is clear cut.

He scratches again at the marks on his arm and Marc places a hand over his to stop him.

“I wanna sleep. I just...” Colt tries to find words to get him out of his discomfort, out of conversations that make him sad or confuse him. Colt wants to shut everything off for awhile. “Is there anything I can have to make me sleep?”

“No drugs, Vanilla. Not right now. We have to get everything out of your system right now.”

Colt turns his head so that his lips are brushing against Marc’s as he whispers. “But I need it… please.”

His medicine makes things easier. His medicine numbs everything. His medicine will help him through all the fucked up things he’s starting to think and feel again.

“Please, Marc.” He pleads.

“Shhhh… the answer is no, baby. Do what I say.”

Colt sighs and leans back against the pillows. For now, he’ll do what Marc says.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

The water is scalding hot and Colt doesn’t care that it burns his skin. He stands beneath the spray, face tilted up into it, willing it to have bleach in it to clean and sanitize every inch of him. This is the fourth time he’s done this tonight and he still doesn’t feel clean.

It’s morning now and he still can’t get clean.

He didn’t sleep well last night, unable to get comfortable, unable to quit thinking about needing his medicine, unable to stop the onslaught of memories of the things he’d done while with Rodrigo and the emotions that he can no longer mute that come with those things he’d done.

There’s nothing he can do to fix what’s going on inside of him right now.

There’s nothing he can do about the outside of him either.

Colt can’t get clean and it doesn’t feel like it will ever get better. In fact, the further he gets from a fresh dose and the further he gets from Rodrigo’s manipulation, the worse it gets.

He turns off the water and pulls a towel off the rack, pressing his face into it. His skin itches. It crawls with need. He needs so many things, many of them out of his reach.

Colt dries himself off and wraps the towel around his waist before pushing aside the curtain and stepping out.

Marc is there, in just his boxer briefs, leaning back against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s looking at Colt and Colt has no idea what to say to him. Every time Colt got up to take a shower last night, and now this morning, Marc has stood there and waited for him. Because of him, Marc hasn’t slept very much last night either.

“I’m sorry.” Colt says quietly, stepping over to the counter to tie his damp hair back into a bun.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Water’s too hot though. You’re gonna burn your skin.” Marc’s knuckles slide down one of Colt’s arms. The skin there is red and splotchy, whether that’s from the water temperature or his feverish scrubbing is anyone’s guess.

Colt tries to find the words to make Marc understand that he isn’t clean, that he can’t get clean, that he needs the water that hot to try to get as clean as possible, and the moment passes before he can come up with them. Words are difficult right now.

“How are you feeling?” Marc asks.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“Yeah, I know. Try to answer it anyway, Vanilla.”

The steam from the mirror is starting to clear and Colt looks at his own reflection, unsure of who is staring back at him. He’s thin. There are bite marks on his skin. He’s so damn filthy.

“I can’t get comfortable. My head hurts. My skin itches. I feel nauseous and I really don’t wanna throw up your mom’s soup.” Colt says, opting for all the physical ways in which he can answer Marc’s question. The physical is easier than what’s underneath. “And my nose is running like crazy so I might be allergic to Emmitt now.”

“No, you’re detoxing. It’s gonna take at least a week, probably more, to get the Poison out of your system.”

“He called it medicine.” Colt says, pumping some soap into his palms and washing his hands. Maybe if he could just get his hands clean, that would be enough. “And I didn’t want it, not at first. Now I want it… really bad.”

Colt is scrubbing his hands with his nails, pumping more soap onto them. Marc reaches out and holds Colt’s hands under the spray of water to get the suds off and then turns the water off. He hands Colt a hand towel.

Colt dries his hands, looking at Marc. “Do you have any?”

“No. The want for it will go away, baby. You just gotta get through this part of it.” Marc leans in to kiss at Colt’s shoulder, but stops himself halfway there.

When Colt looks he sees a bite mark there, one that will eventually fade but is still red and angry. Not all of the bite marks will fade. Some will scar.

He looks at Marc, watching… waiting… wanting Marc to follow through and kiss his skin in spite of the bite marks, in spite of how used and dirty he is, and feeling his heart crush into a million pieces when Marc pulls away and just grins crookedly at him.

Tears fill Colt’s eyes and he pumps more soap into his hands, turns the water on again and washes his hands again. And again. And again.

He wishes he were on his cloud high above the world where nothing can touch him, where he doesn’t have to feel any of these things, where there is no right and wrong and no real emotional pain, only physical pain. Colt wants to be there so bad right now.

He forces a smirk and shakes his head before trying to explain away the tears. “I’m also freakin’ emotional… like way more than normal. It’s stupid.”

“That’s part of the detox.” Marc says. “And it’s not stupid.”

Colt nods in agreement, glad that Marc accepts that excuse for the tears now slipping unchecked down Colt’s cheeks instead of pushing for anything more.

Marc has to make Colt quit washing his hands again. Instead of slipping into the shower again Colt is made to get back into bed. He lies back and stares up at the ceiling as Marc climbs back into bed with him and drapes an arm around Colt’s waist. It feels good to be held.

When he was a child, Colt mastered the art of crying quietly. His dad would have beat him if he saw tears. For the most part, Colt could stop himself from crying when things were shitty. Sometimes a person needs to cry though. Colt learned to cry in silence.

He does so now, glad for the mostly dark bedroom. It won’t be dark much longer. The sun is rising. It’s morning.

Marc didn’t kiss him because of a bite from Rodrigo. Colt gets it. He understands it. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Marc?”

“Mmhm?”

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Colt asks, throwing one of the things he needs out there to see if he can get Marc to give him something to hold onto, an eye in the middle of the turbulent storm building inside of him. “You can. It’s okay. I want it.”

Marc nuzzles up near Colt’s temple at his hairline. He kisses his brow and draws a deep breath of him before answering. “Not yet, baby. Not yet. Soon, alright?”

Colt nods, understanding that answer as well even though it hurts too. Rodrigo is still all over him. He needs another shower. He needs to try to get clean.

As if he can sense his thoughts, Marc’s arm tightens around Colt’s waist, holding him in place. Colt closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

**

Colt wakes up to a tongue licking his hand and a heater next to him. Emmitt is on the bed with him. Colt reaches out to rub at the Dane’s ears and neck. Usually his dog sleeps on the pillowed dog bed on the floor in the living room. Sometimes he’s made his way into bed with Colt.

Right now Colt is glad for the kind of company that doesn’t request anything more of him than to just be here. There are no judgments or expectations with dogs. It’s just what Colt needs.

There’s activity in the rest of his house. Colt can vaguely hear Marc’s voice and others although he doesn’t listen to their conversations.

For a long time Colt just lays there with Emmitt until he feels the need to get up for necessary things. Being in the bathroom leads to another scalding hot shower that lasts much longer than necessary.

Colt finds a pair of sweatpants afterward and pokes his head into the living room. There are at least a dozen people in his house. Through the front door and windows he sees more. Some of the faces he recognizes. Others are strangers.

Almost immediately Marc locks eyes with him and in spite of being mid-conversation he stands up from the group of men surrounding him at the couches. He approaches and takes Colt’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

Colt nods. “I’m awake.”

“You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s the detox talking. You need to eat.” As Marc is accustomed to doing, he doesn’t take no for an answer. He leads Colt into the kitchen and opens the fridge.

Colt watches as Marc ladles some of his mom’s soup out of a pot into a bowl and heats it in the microwave. While they wait for it to heat up, Marc has to stop Colt from scratching at his arms and neck and anywhere he can reach. He does so by holding onto both of Colt’s hands and leaning in close to rest their brows together. For a moment, Colt closes his eyes, breathes Marc in and just lets himself exist in the moment with him.

Someone clears their throat next to them and Colt sees Marc’s father, Juan, and an older woman with suntanned skin and dirty blonde hair standing just behind him. It’s startling because Colt himself has suntanned skin and dirty blonde hair. The woman is tall and slim just like Colt.

She’s not what Colt would have expected Marc’s mother to look like for some reason. Maybe she didn’t expect the similarities either, because she looks just as surprised.

Marc starts pronouncing the letter ‘F’ but doesn’t let any more of the curse out than that.

“Colt. I’d like for you to meet my wife, Marco’s mother, Michelle. My love, this is Marco’s Colt that I’ve told you about.”

The woman seems to recover from their shared surprise and offers Colt a small smile and a nod before offering her hand. “Hello, Colt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Colt lets go of one of Marc’s hands to shake hers. “You too. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Michelle turns his hand up so she can see the ‘Fiarri’ tattoo on the inside of his forearm. She shows him one of her own, smaller and more delicate than his, on the inside of her wrist. There it is, the name ‘Fiarri’ in a tiny elegant script.

There’s a moment that passes between the two of them, a silent understanding that they both belong to the Fiarri’s, before she continues as if the moment hadn’t happened at all. “I understand that you’ve been through something horrible.”

Colt has no idea what to say to that. He just pulls his hand away from hers and shrugs and nods in a noncommittal way. Right now he’s wishing he was where the medicine is. Right now he’s in denial about a lot of things. Right now he’s trying not to think so much that his emotions catch up to him to the point that he can’t see past them.

“He’ll be fine, mom. He just needs time.” Marc says.

Is that all he needs? Time? It sounds so simple. Colt feels like he needs more than that. He feels like things are far more complicated than that.

Marc and his mom look at one another awkwardly for a moment before Michelle steps close to her son to embrace him. Marc only hesitates briefly before returning the gesture.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Michelle says quietly. “I love you.”

Marc nods. “Me too.”

When she pulls back, Michelle cups either side of Marc’s face. “We’ll try to do better?”

Marc nods again. “Yeah, mom.”

“Are you heating him up some soup, Marco? He’s very thin.” Michelle reaches into a bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a loaf of bread wrapped in paper. “I baked some bread to go with the soup.”

“He can have soup and bread.” Marc says, then looks at Colt. “Sounds good, right Vanilla?”

Colt’s stomach doesn’t seem to want to accept food right now, but there’s no way he’s going to say that in front of Marc’s parents. “Yeah. I’ll try it. Thanks.”

Michelle and Juan look pleased with his answer and Colt feels himself relax a bit. All that’s expected of him is to eat. He just has to eat. That’s easy enough.

Colt sits at the table and Marc sets a bowl and a slice of bread in front of him. Colt starts to nurse it slowly, watching all the movement around him. There are plans being made that Colt doesn’t understand. All of the men are obviously armed.

All of the activity seems to revolve around Marc.

Several of the men Colt recognizes from the warehouse. He feels heat flush his skin at the memory. They saw what was done to him. Some of the men were standing guard at Rodrigo’s house. Again, Colt feels embarrassment and shame. They saw what was done to him. They know the things he’s done. Many of the other men are strangers. They probably know everything too.

Some of the food he’s just eaten starts to come back up with another wave of nausea. Colt sips at water to try to keep it down.

When Marc’s mom sits down at the table across from him, Colt is both nervous about her seeing him and glad for the distraction from his spiraling thoughts.

“This is a very nice table.”

“Yeah. It is. Marc bought it.”

“It’s a nice house.”

“Thank you.”

They sit in silence for a bit. Colt tries to eat more of the soup but only gets one more spoonful down before he decides it’s best to just pick at the bread.

“Thanks for the food. It’s really delicious and I’m really trying, it’s just...”

“I understand. I’ve been told what happened. Rodrigo is a horrible, despicable man.”

It doesn’t seem as simple as that to Colt. Nothing is so black and white anymore. Everything is one big cluster fuck of a gray area. If Rodrigo is horrible and despicable, Colt feels like maybe he is too.

He needs a shower and looks over to Marc and then to the bedroom where the bathroom is.

“I think my son loves you.”

The comment draws Colt back to Michelle. Does Marc still love him? Maybe. Right now that’s a gray area as well.

“Do you love him?”

Colt nods after a moment. “He deserves better though.” Rodrigo’s words are out before Colt can stop them. “I’m...” A lump forms in Colt’s throats and his eyes become blurry with tears. He sips at his water again to try to stop himself from crying.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Michelle says. “Juan says that Marco met you at a bar, but that you were playing in a band.”

That feels like a lifetime ago. Colt nods at Marc’s mother. “Yeah. He was… an unexpected surprise. And then he kind of took over everything.”

Michelle smiles and nods. “Yes, the Fiarri’s do tend to do that. Juan was the same way with me. I had no idea what to do with him and the way he stormed into my life at first.”

Colt finds himself smirking. “I can relate to that.”

“When they decide they want something, there’s no stopping them. You learn with time how to deal with them, their need for control, their temperament, their passion.”

“Some days I deal with it better than others.”

“Me too, even now after all these years.”

They grow quiet again. Colt tries to make himself focus on the simple task of eating and nothing else.

“Have you always known that you were… that you…” Michelle pauses, looks down at the table and then steels herself before she looks back to Colt. “...that you liked men?”

Colt slowly shakes his head. “No. I thought I was straight until I met Marc. I guess that makes me… bisexual? I don’t know all the correct terms but… I know what I feel.”

And he’s had a lot of time to think about him and Marc. Colt knows that he never would have invited Marc over that first night if there hadn’t immediately been something between them, on both sides. As much as he had tried to cling to being straight, he knows he’s not. Colt doesn’t want to pretend anymore. Marc isn’t perfect. Neither is Colt. Nonetheless, he wants to be with Marc.

“I haven’t handled Marco well in this regard. That is my failure. I’m going to try to do better… and I’d like to get to know you, Colt.” Michelle says. “Once you’re feeling better and you’re ready for your boyfriend’s mom in your life, I’d like to get to know you.”

It’s difficult for Colt to know what to do with Michelle. He’s never known a loving, caring parent like her and Juan. Marc has two parents who seem to care about him a great deal. Even if she messed up with Marc in some ways, she’s still so much more than Colt has ever seen or known.

At the same time, he doesn’t want anyone to really know him right now. He feels so disconnected from everything and everyone, including himself. What if Marc decides he doesn’t want him anymore?

In the end, Colt just nods at her because that seems like the easiest response. For now, the easiest route is the best route.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

The intent was to take another shower when Colt slipped out of Marc’s arms and from their bed in the middle of the night. That was his intent. How he ended up in his backyard is beyond him. It wasn’t a conscious decision, although there had been some thought put into it.

There are people in the living room. There are people out in front of his house. The access to the backyard is through the laundry room. The access to the laundry room is right next to his bedroom.

See? There was thought put into it even if he had no real intention of coming out here and initially he isn’t sure why he did so.

His skin is crawling. Colt feels like there are ants slithering from one place to the next beneath his skin. They tickle and he can’t scratch them away.

There’s a sheen of perspiration over his skin as well. He’s constantly hot and cold.

Medicine. He needs medicine. How does he get it?

Colt starts to walk toward the back fence where there’s a gate, his bare feet padding through the soft grass. He looks up and sees a few stars through the clouds. They’re white, as they should be, not gold and fake like in Rodrigo’s bedroom.

He stops in the middle of the yard and stares up at them.

It’s some minutes later, Colt is lying in the grass in the middle of his backyard when he hears the creak and slap of the screen door closing. Someone approaches.

“Colt. Hey man, Marco’s gonna be pissed if he wakes up and finds that I was half asleep on the job and you got past me. You can’t be out here alone.” It’s Sebastian. “You alright?”

“Do you have any medicine?” Colt asks.

“Medicine?”

“Rodrigo gave me medicine. Do you have any?”

Sebastian stands over Colt and shakes his head. “You can’t have any of that. You don’t _need_ any of that. I know it feels like you do, but you don’t. This will pass.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s passing quickly enough. It feels like Colt will crumble to dust if he doesn’t get something to keep encroaching emotions at bay.

“The stars are white.” He says, tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes for no good reason that he can tell.

Sebastian looks up. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

“They were gold and they disappeared. Now they’re back.” Colt says. “I missed them. I wish I was that far away.”

“Colt… you’ve been through some shit. I know everything seems like it sucks right now, but Marco’s not gonna let it stay that way. It’ll get better, okay?”

“I don’t think it will. I think Marc won’t want me anymore now that I’m used and dirty.”

“That’s not -”

The creak and slap of the screen door interrupts Sebastian. Then Marco, “What the fuck’s he doing out here? Sebastian, you know this isn’t safe.”

Sebastian has left Colt lying where he is to intercept Marc and the two friends hold a whispered conversation away from him. Eventually Marc joins Colt in the grass, sitting down next to him with his legs crossed.

Marc takes one of Colt’s hands in his. “You can’t just go outside anytime you want right now, Vanilla. It’s not safe.”

“From who? Rodrigo?”

“Yeah. From that asshole.” Marc says tersely. “He’s being too quiet. He’s gotta be planning something.”

“He said he loves me.”

The hand holding Colt’s tightens. “Fuck him.”

“Do you love me?”

“You’re mine. Whatever he said he feels about you, it’s lies. It’s not love. He doesn’t know how to love anybody. He doesn’t know how to care about anybody but himself.”

Maybe all of that is true, but Colt takes note of the fact that Marc didn’t answer his question. He looks from the stars to Marc. “Do you love me?”

“You know I do.” Marc answers. “You know I love you.”

“But you won’t fuck me.” Colt says, thinking about all of the reasons why, all of the reasons Rodrigo had instilled in him. “Because...”

“Because right now your mind isn’t straight, Colt. I want that shit he gave you out of your system. Completely. Anything that’s inside of you, I wanna put there. And the first time we make love, I don’t want any of that Poison inside of you so you can’t confuse me with what he did to you.”

Marc gets to his knees and leans over Colt, blocking his view of the stars so that all there is to look at is him. His thumb swipes at some of the tears streaming from Colt’s eyes. “Do you hear me, Colt? I know what that shit does to a person, especially with repeated use. I’ve sold enough of it to fuck up a whole city of people a million times over. That shit will be out of your system when I fuck you; not if I fuck you, _when_ I fuck you.”

Colt lifts one hand to rest his palm on Marc’s chest. “I need you to be the last person inside of me. Right now it’s him. I need it to be you. It feels like he’s still everywhere. It feels like he’s still inside me.”

“I get that and I hate it too, but I promise you that I’ll be your last. I was your first and I’m damn sure gonna be the last. But we’re not gonna have some fucked up repeat of our first time, alright? We’re gonna get that shit outta your system first. Just trust me on this.” Marc leans down to kiss him. “Trust me, baby.”

Colt nods. He wants Marc so badly right now, but he also thinks that maybe Marc has a point. Maybe he wants Marc for all the wrong reasons because of what the medicine is doing to him. His mind is still fucked up. It’s probably going to be fucked up for a long time, but it’s possible that getting the medicine out of his system will go a long way toward making things better. Maybe. Hopefully.

“I missed you.” Colt whispers into Marc’s mouth, a preface to another kiss.

His fingertips trail down Marc’s chest down to his abdomen. Rodrigo had been soft here. Marc is rock solid, built like a brick door. Colt’s touch lingers there as they kiss, then he dips his hand into Marc’s sweatpants to touch already hard cock.

Marc pulls in a heavy breath of air. “Colt...”

“Just let me… let me just do this. No sex, just...” He fists Marc’s cock and starts to tug and pet and press his thumb into the tip.

“Ahhhh fuck me, that feels good.” Marc hisses before kissing Colt again.

Colt feels Marc’s hand slip beneath his cutoff sweats to mimic exactly what Colt is doing for him. It makes Colt think of the library, when Marc had driven him into a frenzy for the first time before Colt could even fully make sense of what was happening between the two of them.

His mind flashes to Rodrigo’s bedroom, sitting on Rodrigo’s lap while the older man petted him.

Colt’s eyes open and he pulls back just enough to look at Marc. This isn’t Rodrigo. This is Marc.

Marc is making the most wonderful sounds and Colt hears himself making them too as he nears orgasm. He never lets himself look away from Marc. He can’t let himself out of this moment because anything else is Rodrigo right now. Colt wants Marc.

“Say my name, Colt.” Marc says, his breath quick and sharp, his words heavy with the beginnings of orgasm. “Say my name.”

“Marc.” Colt spills onto Marc’s hand, his entire body alive and wanting more of Marc, yet knowing he won’t get more. Not yet. “You’re my Marc… and I’m yours. I’m yours, right?”

“You’re mine and I’m yours.” Marc nips lightly at Colt’s lips. “Yes, baby. I’m yours.”

This is surprisingly a similar high to what Colt had been seeking. It’s hard to explain exactly how badly Colt had needed to hear those words. It’s hard to explain exactly how badly Colt had needed to be with and feel pleasure with Marc in any way, shape or form.

They lie together in the grass for awhile before Marc makes Colt get up and go back inside. They pass by Sebastian at the back door who must have been standing sentinel the entire time.

Marc lets Colt have another quick shower, although Marc sets the temperature of the water to less than scalding hot, and then they get back to bed.

**

For the next few days there’s an endless cycle of men in and out of his house. There are never fewer than a dozen at a time and usually there’s more. Sebastian and Jacob are staples, almost always present and seemingly taking up positions as Marc’s second and third in command. 

Colt’s house isn’t a big house although it’s well-kept. It was never intended to hold this many people for an extended period of time. Marc has made Colt’s bedroom off limits to the men so that Colt has a place to be by himself. Colt is thankful for that.

Marc is almost always surrounded and talking with the other guys. If Colt is in the room, it’s obvious that half of Marc’s attention is on him.

Juan, Marc’s father, is a regular guest. Colt doesn’t see Michelle again although Juan almost always arrives with home-cooked meals that she’s prepared for everyone.

Every time that Colt is in the living room, he looks to the corner of the room where his handful of instruments sit. He never tries to pick them up and play them. His experience with the Strad in Rodrigo’s bedroom always comes back full force.

He vaguely wonders what Sam and the rest of the Drunken Wizards must think about his disappearance. Colt tries not to care.

He’s trying not to care about a lot right now.

Everything is eerily calm for four days. Of course the calm doesn’t last. It can’t last, not when there are Fiarri’s involved.

Colt is in the kitchen, warming up some dinner when it happens. His appetite is slowly starting to come back to him. He’s still going through detox but there are some moments where he feels generally okay, physically speaking. Then there are moments where he thinks he might climb the walls or scratch his own skin off. The generally okay moments are a good sign though. Colt didn’t have any okay moments a few days ago.

He hears gunshots, not all of them silenced. The glass of a front window shatters as something is thrown into the living room. There are hurried voices and the revving of an engine.

“Get down, Colt!” Marco yells from across the house.

Colt gets down on the floor amid another flurry of gunshots and more engines revving. It feels like it lasts forever although in reality it’s just seconds. Colt’s heart is thrumming loudly in his chest, in his ears, everywhere.

Marc is beside him. “You okay, Vanilla? Did you get hit? Are you hit?”

“No… no, I’m not hit.” Colt lets Marc help him up. Marc’s hands smooth over Colt’s skin where it’s available, checking him for himself. Colt doesn’t see any wounds on Marc either.

Marc wraps Colt in a hug and Colt holds Marc back. “Was that Rodrigo?”

“Only person it could be.”

They hold onto one another for a bit longer before Marc unwraps himself and Colt does the same. Marc cups either side of Colt’s face and kisses him before turning back to his crew.

Colt stands in the kitchen watching as Marc takes control and asks for casualties. Three of Marc’s men have been shot, only one of them fatal. Two are unaccounted for, presumably taken off after their attackers in retaliation. The house has a few bullet shots in the front and a broken window.

Jacob picks up a brick that was thrown through the window. Painted on the brick is the word ‘Morte’. Jacob shows the word to Marco.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Morte. Death. Marco, he’s saying we’re all dead… or maybe just you. Nah, I’m gonna go with all of us, but also could he be more cryptic?”

“There’s more.” Jacob brings the brick closer to read some smaller print. “Are you clean enough, Colt?”

Colt meets Marc’s intense gaze. Everyone in the room is looking at him. Colt wants to disappear. Colt wants to go to the shower and slide down the drain and disappear. Colt remembers wanting to die.

Morte.

Sometimes he still wants to die.

“I...” Colt starts and stops himself. He needs another shower. He’s not clean enough. That’s why Marc doesn’t want to have sex with him. Colt is never clean enough.

Marc grabs the brick from Jacob and slams it into the trash can before joining Colt in the kitchen. Marc holds onto onto of Colt’s wrists. “What were you doing before?”

Colt shakes his head, his thoughts scattered.

“Look at me, Vanilla.” Colt looks at Marc. “There you are. Now what were you doing before this happened?”

“Uhm… I was warming myself up some food.”

“Alright. That’s good. Food is good for you. Get back to it, alright?” Marc cups the back of Colt’s neck and kisses his brow. He gently squeezes the back of Colt’s neck. “Eat a plate of food, alright? We’ll go from there.”

Colt draws in a deep breath and turns away to do as Marc has told him in a robotic fashion. Marc goes back to the others in the room and starts instructing them through what should happen next. The injured get taken care of and the dead carted away while Colt sits quietly at the table and numbly forks food into his mouth.

When the cops show up, Marc handles it for the most part. He files the report and since Colt is the owner of the house, Colt simply mimics Marc’s response to yes or no questions when the police ask him about it. Colt is good at lying to cops. He’d done it for years with his parents.

There’s surprisingly not much difference in lying about domestic/child abuse and lying about a gun fight in a residential district. They’re both lies. What is a lie when you’ve already done so many other horrible things? It’s nothing.

Colt feels like he’s nothing.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

There are people repairing the broken window in the living room. It’s been two days since the surprise attack at the house. Marc has hired a repair crew for all the broken bits of their home from the window to siding to the roof. Colt wishes it was that easy to repair himself.

He’s starting to put weight back on, which Marc seems overly enthusiastic about. Colt has always been slim, but not so slim that his bones jutted out wherever they could. It’s getting harder to see his bones.

Many of the bite marks have faded away as well. There are a handful of them that won’t ever go away completely. Colt tries not to think about them just as he tries not to think about so many other things.

Colt trimmed his beard this morning, the first self-care (showers not included) he’s done since getting back to the world where he belongs. Speaking of showers, he’s only showered twice today. It’s afternoon time and only two showers since waking up is a huge step for him.

It isn’t that he doesn’t think about showering every damn second, it’s that he’s getting better at convincing himself that it’s okay, that another shower when he’s already had one isn’t going to change anything one way or another. He’s getting better at controlling himself in regard to his own cleanliness, or perceived lack thereof.

Colt is out in the backyard, sitting in the grass and tossing a tennis ball for Emmitt. The big dog lumbers across the yard to fetch it. Sometimes he brings it back and sometimes it takes him awhile to decide he wants it thrown again.

Marc is rarely far away. Right now Marc is pacing back and forth close to the backdoor as he talks on the phone to someone. Just hearing Marc’s voice helps to keep Colt steady and present. It doesn’t matter what Marc is saying as long as Colt can hear him. It doesn’t matter whether or not he can physically see Marc as long as he can hear him.

Living in denial about things that have happened, keeping the secrets of the things he’s done and choosing not to ask for things he needs anymore has set him on a very quiet and introverted path. Colt doesn’t talk much anymore. He doesn’t let himself think about reality, past or present, anymore.

His mind is full of imaginary conversations and dream-like scenarios. Colt imagines that he tells Marc everything that’s going through his mind, all the ugly, nitty-gritty, dark and depressing things that he never really says out loud. In his imagination Marc sometimes holds him and tells him it’s alright, that he still loves him. Sometimes Marc suddenly hates him. Colt daydreams about how it would feel if Marc touched him just so and what it would be like to let Marc fuck him in every way imaginable.

His mind is a spectacular and terrifying place. Colt is nesting inside of himself, in his own mind.

Even now, as Emmitt brings a slobber soaked tennis ball back to him, as Colt picks it up and throws it across the yard, as the dog chases after it, even now Colt is imagining how Marc used to kiss every inch of his skin as if Marc were the most devout of followers and Colt were the alter upon which his religion rests.

Colt has an amazing imagination. These aren’t the drug induced hallucinations he’d had at Rodrigo’s, they’re hallucinations of his own making and they feel every bit as real.

Closing his eyes, Colt tilts his head back and lets the sun warm his skin while he imagines Marc’s lips worshiping, devouring, savoring all of him. Hearing the timber of Mark’s voice in the background just adds to the moment.

Colt lies back in the grass and imagines the words Marc has told him before.

_”Lift the hem of your tank top and touch your abs.”_

As he grins and mouths the words ‘I don’t have abs’, Colt uses his fingertips to push the hem of his tank top up and slides his fingertips over his abdomen. His hand slips beneath his cut-off sweats as he remembers more of Marc’s words.

_”Put your hand in your pants and touch yourself.”_

Touching himself feels good. His cock is already hard and he remembers that it had felt just as good when he’d been lying on the couch in the living room as it does now. He didn’t know that Marc was videoing him then. Is Marc watching him now? He can still hear Marc’s voice.

Colt spreads his legs a bit more, remembering how Marc had told him to do that, how Marc had liked it when he did. His back arches, his hips lift up just a bit to press his cock into his own hand as he fondles himself.

Emmitt returns, dropping the ball next to Colt’s head and proceeding to lick his face. Colt laughs and pulls his hand from his pants to only halfheartedly try to push the dog away.

He sits back up, his tank falling back into place over his stomach before he picks up the ball and tosses it again. Emmitt gallops after it.

When Colt turns to look back at Marc, he sees the other man with the phone still to his ear. Marc’s only half entrenched in the conversation though. The way he looks at Colt is hard and intense, almost dark in a way that reminds him of Rodrigo.

Colt hates that comparison, but it’s there nonetheless.

He brings his attention back to Emmitt and continues to live in his dreamworld where it’s Marc’s hand in his pants, Marc’s lips at his neck, Marc’s touch that drives him wild. Even when he lived his shitty childhood, Colt wasn’t as thankful for having such a vivid imagination to hide in as he is now.

**

The next morning, before the sun has had time to make an appearance, Colt is untangling himself from Marc with the intention of taking a shower. He barely even sits up before Marc is pulling him back down to the bed.

“Not yet, Vanilla. Stay with me.”

Colt settles back into Marc’s arms, facing him and cuddling in close. “I need a shower soon.”

“You don’t. You smell good, Colt. You’re clean. I promise.”

Colt doesn’t feel clean, but the fact that Marc thinks he smells good is something that he tries to cling to for the moment. He closes his eyes and settles himself against Marc, his face pressed into Marc’s chest.

“I want you to talk to me.” Marc says.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Colt thinks for a moment, trying to find words. Words are hard. He plucks something random out of the air, a stray thought. “Your mom’s a good cook.”

“Yeah, she is. She enjoys it, like you do.” Marc answers. “If you wanna cook again, let me know. We’ll get a list together and send one of the guys out for food. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Silence settles between them for a bit until Marc prompts him again. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m not as good a cook as your mom.”

Marc smirks. “You are. I’ve liked almost everything you’ve ever made.”

“There was that one time you wanted take-out instead.”

“It had cauliflower in the recipe. I hate cauliflower. It’s like little white trees and it freaks me out.”

“You didn’t tell me that until after the fact.”

“Well now you know.”

“I don’t feel like I’d be that good at it right now.” Colt says. “Cooking, I mean.”

“Why not? You were good at it before that asshole took you. He didn’t change that about you.”

Colt is silent for a lengthy minute or two, thinking about why he doesn’t feel like he can be good at anything anymore… except sex. He’s good at sex. That’s all he did all day and night while with Rodrigo. He had sex. Now he doesn’t have sex even though he needs and wants it.

“He changed some things.”

“Yeah, I won’t disagree with that.” Marc’s hand slides down Colt’s back. “You’re still you though.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

The way Marc answers that so definitively almost makes Colt believe he can still be the same person that he was before Rodrigo turned him inside out and messed him up so badly.

“Maybe… I’ll look for new recipes tomorrow.”

“Good.” Colt feels a kiss pressed against his brow. “And you haven’t picked up your violin.”

“I can’t.”

“Colt, he didn’t change-”

“He did.”

Marc waits for Colt to elaborate and when there’s only silence, Marc presses for more. “What did he do?”

Colt shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Colt.”

“I can’t.”

Silence settles between them again for awhile. Once again, it’s Marc who breaks it. “I talked to Sam.”

Colt doesn’t know why that’s so surprising. Marc and Sam in the same general vicinity just doesn’t compute. “You did?”

“Yeah. A couple of times. That asshole has it bad for you. I know you don’t see it, but I see it. You’re mine. I told him you’re mine.”

“Sam knows that we’re together?”

“Yep. And he said he wasn’t surprised that you were into dudes. I also told him that you’d been attacked and needed some time.” Marc says. “Not too far off from the truth, yeah?”

“No, not too far off.”

Marc sighs. “He said to call him when you’re ready.”

Colt doesn’t know what to say. Words are hard. Will he ever be ready? For the first time in a few days Colt thinks about how much easier it would be to have his medicine to numb everything for him.

“You took care of my dog and you talked to my band leader to make sure I’d still have a spot.” Colt says finally. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“Our dog. And yeah, I love you and I know how much you love music. I know how important it is to you. That’s one thing I wouldn’t ever try to change about you or take away from you no matter how crazy I get over the attention you get because of it.”

Marc pulls back from him and Colt looks to his shadowed form in the bed. “Reading, cooking and music. These are things I know you enjoy. I want you to start thinking about them again. You don’t have to do them right away, but just fucking think about them, alright? Think about trying.”

There’s another kiss to Colt’s brow. “I feel like I’m losing you even though I got you back. You don’t talk to anyone, not even me. You’re in your head, lost in there and I can’t tell what’s going on with you. It scares me… and I’m not a guy who scares all that easy.”

Colt knows that to be true. Marc is like steel, unbreakable. “I’ll be fine. If I let myself think… too much...”

“Maybe you need to let yourself think too much. Maybe you need to talk. You can do that with me.”

“You’ll get angry. I know your temper.” Colt says. “And what if you don’t want me after you know certain things? I don’t think I could take you not wanting me right now.”

“That’s never gonna happen, Vanilla. You’re mine. What you did with that fucker, whatever it is, that was you being strong. That was you being brave. That was you surviving. Maybe it doesn’t feel that way to you right now, but that’s how I see it.”

Colt feels tears forming in his eyes again and he hates himself for it. He can’t stop them though.

“And my temper? Yeah. I gotta work on that. I know I do.” Marc’s fingers comb through Colt’s hair and down into his beard. “I know I’ve gotta work on that… and I’m gonna try, for you, but I need you to try for me too. Alright? Do what I say.”

Colt nods in the dark room, knowing that Marc can feel it with his fingers pressed to Colt’s cheek.

“What are you gonna try, Colt?”

“I’m gonna try… to think about music and cookin’ and reading.” Colt whispers.

“And you’re gonna try to get outta your head and talk to me.”

“Yeah. That too.”

“And I’m gonna try to work on my temper.” Marc says. “And getting you out of that head of yours to talk. I need you to talk to me, baby. And I also need you to finish what you started in the backyard yesterday… and I wanna watch.”

There’s a very brief moment of confusion before Colt realizes what Marc is talking about. “You wanna watch me get myself off?”

“That was so damn hot. I know your head is still fucked up, but baby I’ve been thinking about it since I watched you do it and I wanna see it up close.”

Colt is naked beneath the sheets, his nudity made even more evident as Marc guides him to lie back and pulls the sheet down to Colt’s knees.

“I want you to fff-”

Marc puts a finger to Colt’s lips to stop him from asking him to fuck him. “Not yet. Do what I say, Vanilla. Touch yourself like you did in the backyard.”

Marc lies beside Colt on his side with his head rested in one hand. Marc’s other hand slides over Colt’s chest and thighs and abdomen, everywhere but where Colt wants him to touch.

Colt slips his hand down to touch his own cock. He strokes and pets and fondles himself while Marc watches. “I was thinkin’ about you yesterday when I did this.”

“Good.” Colt can just make out the crooked grin on Marc’s lips. “I’m all you should be thinking about when you do this. Just me. And you.”

His cock is hard in his hand and he feels the warm wet of precum when he dips his thumb into the tip. “You like watchin’ me.”

“I’m always watching you, Vanilla. Always. And this? What you did yesterday in the yard and here right now? This is fucking hot, baby. You are so damn hot.”

The room is still mostly dark, tendrils of the rising sun just starting to turn night into day. Colt can see how intently Marc is watching, his brown eyes sliding up and down Colt’s body as Colt gets himself off. When he cums, Mark cleans his spill off of him with his tongue and lips. Colt can taste it when they kiss.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Just as he’d promised Marc he would do, Colt is trying. Their kitchen is stocked with fresh groceries from a list that Colt had made. Colt has started a new book; a fictional mystery, sci-fi thriller. Sometimes he has to read chapters more than once because he mentally checks out, but he’s getting better at realizing when that happens, backtracking and correcting himself.

His attempt to be more present, to engage more, is a slower struggle than cooking or reading a book. Colt is trying though and occasionally finds himself in conversation with Sebastian or Jacob or even Marc’s father. Mostly his conversation is with Marc.

They talk about stupid things that don’t matter, like what’s going on in the book Colt is reading or the weather or how the Giants are doing this season. They talk about a new song that’s come out or the possibility of getting a new oven/stove top to replace the ancient one currently in the kitchen.

It’s raining outside. Colt sits inside at the window and watches as it washes the world outside clean, as it gathers in the gutters on the sides of the streets and tap-taps against the window.

A book is in his lap, all but forgotten once it started raining.

It had been a gloomy day up until now. Now the rain cleanses and Colt wants to go outside and stand in it. It isn’t safe for him outside, Marc has told him this on multiple occasions.

There’s whispered conversation happening around the table between Marco and the men who are here. They’re planning something. Normally, Colt wouldn’t be listening. Lately he’s been trying to pay more attention to things and that includes what’s happening in his house.

“If we strike at night, we can catch them off guard.”

“On the other hand, they won’t expect it in the light of day. Just like getting Colt out. They’ll never know what hit them until after the fact.”

“We had an inside man for getting Colt. I don’t think the men left with Rodrigo would turn on him. They’re loyal no matter how messed up he is.”

“Maybe. We don’t know that. Some of them might be too scared to leave.”

“Who can blame them? Rodrigo’s gone loco.”

“Not blaming them, just saying. If we take more time we could possibly find another inside man.”

“I’m sick of waiting for him to come out into the open to make another move. I’ve got a wife and kids and one on the way. I say we attack, off Rodrigo before he can do to any of ours what he did to Marco’s and get back to the business of doing what we do.”

There are murmurs of agreement.

“We can’t just walk up to the front door and start shooting. These people were our people at one point. Without an inside man, we need to draw him out. Once Rodrigo’s out of the picture, we might be able to salvage some of our old crew again, make them prove themselves before we give them higher positions.”

“If they’re still with Rodrigo, maybe they’re just collateral damage.”

“That’s low man...”

“But true. Rodrigo is the devil and if you fight him you have to get on his level. Him and those men shot us up in this house just over a week ago and they didn’t give a shit about who we were before everyone chose a side.”

“Hate to say it man, but he’s not wrong.”

“Marco. You gotta give an opinion here. You’ve been quiet.”

“Just listening.” Marc says. “You all make valid points.”

“What do you want us to do? We should act before he comes at us again.”

“I agree with that. I just don’t like the idea of shooting up a residential. He does that, obviously. We’re better than that.” Colt is strangely proud of Marc for that opinion.

“So we don’t go in gun’s blazing. How do you wanna play this?”

“We go to his house, we’re on his turf. It’s a confined space. We draw him out, innocents get caught in the crossfire.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No, but unforeseen circumstances are a lot different than planning for those kind of fucking casualties.”

“You got a better option?”

The room goes quiet as everyone thinks. Colt listens to the tap-tap-tap of rain on the windows, the drip of rain from the gutters. He thinks he hears thunder.

“He’s the devil and to fight him you have to get on his level...” Colt repeats what one of the men had said.

The table of men are looking over at him. Colt looks back. “Do you have any medicine?”

Marc’s features soften and he shakes his head. “Colt, no...”

“I mean Poison… the Poison. Use it. For the people at Rodrigo’s, not for me. It works really fast, like within seconds fast.”

Jacob pushes away from the wall and takes a few steps toward Colt, eyeing him before looking back at the table. “He’s saying use the Poison to incapacitate instead of bullets to kill. Stealth. They won’t even know we’re there until it’s too late if we do it right.”

One of the men sitting at the table nods slowly. “It could work. We’d need a weak point of entry.”

“Is there access to the basement outside?” Colt asks.

“Colt, this isn’t your business.” Marc says, his voice hard and his gaze on Colt even harder.

“Except it kind of is, isn’t it?” Colt asks Marc. “Everything he did. Everything I did. It’s my business. You want me to quit gettin’ lost inside myself? Well I’m right here.”

Colt and Marc stare at one another in silence for a long while before someone interjects.

“You were in the basement?” Jacob asks.

“Once, yeah.” Colt gets the idea that they all know what happens in the basement, the small room with a singular chair and blood on the floors. Colt thinks about dead-eyed, limp dicked, Gustav.

_Fucking fags..._

He shakes the memory off and continues. “There were only a few men down there. I was kind of high so I didn’t… I didn’t really look around. But if there’s access to the basement from the outside, it could be a good entry point. I’m guessin’ the basement isn’t always guarded unless there’s a prisoner down there.”

“Holy fuck, Colt…” Colt forgets the name of the man who says this. “It could work.”

“Was there a prisoner there when you were there?” Sebastian asks.

Colt swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Gustav.”

All of the men look at one another and there are a few more murmurs from around the table.

“He turned up dead, did he not?” Juan, Marc’s father asks.

Colt is the one to answer. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

Marc draws a deep breath and stands up from the table, looking intensely at Colt. His hands are balled into fists at his sides. “He made you kill Gustav?”

Colt nods again. “I was high… mostly. He made Gustav give him a list of addresses and then...”

“Gustav’s men are the ones Rodrigo paid to steal the bag from this house.” Jacob says to Marc. “This is no coincidence.”

Marc and Colt are still staring at one another. Marc looks like he wants to punch someone. Juan speaks to his son. “Marco, focus. What do you want us to do?”

Colt watches as Marc draws a few deep breaths and tears his eyes away from him. “How much Poison do we have?”

“Enough.” Sebastian says. “We go in through the basement, use syringes and we dope as we go.”

“Until we get to Rodrigo.”

“After all is said and done, we can suss out who’s left and who we want to give the opportunity to work their way back into the organization.”

Marc has nodded at all of this. “Rodrigo is mine.”

“And mine.” Juan adds. “You won’t do it alone, Marco.”

Colt looks back out through the window, the world distorted somewhat through the rain drops still pattering against the glass. He just helped plan a hit on Marc’s uncle and he isn’t sure how to feel about it. The words were out and he couldn’t stop them. He isn’t even really sure he wanted to stop them.

He also stood up to Marc. His boyfriend wanted to block him out even after everything that’s happened. He knows Marc is just trying to protect him. He also knows that he’s well past being protected to that extent. Colt has drowned himself in this business and he deserves to be heard.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and finds Marc kneeling next to him. Marc pulls him into a tight embrace and holds him for awhile before whispering in his ear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he made you do that.”

“You had nothin’ to do with it.” Colt says. “He made me do a lot of things, Marc.”

“He put a gun in your hand.” Marc says.

“Yeah. I’ve shot guns before though… just not at people. I killed Gustav. I killed another man too, I don’t even remember his name, I was so fuckin’ high. I shot another man but I didn’t kill him. They said somethin’ about offing you and I shot. I didn’t think twice.” Colt thinks it must be a sad state of affairs that he’s glad that his body count is two men and not three – as far as he knows. Two kills already weigh so heavily on his conscience. “Do you still love me?”

Marc pulls back and cups either side of Colt’s face in his hands. “I love you so damn much. I’m just… I didn’t realize it went beyond sex. I didn’t realize that what he did to you was more than sex. Now I know there’s something you won’t talk about with your music and that he made you kill people. Baby, you were high as a fucking kite and he manipulated you. Those deaths are on him, not you.”

That doesn’t feel like the truth. Those deaths feel very much as if they were Colt’s doing. “Am I gonna go to jail?” He asks.

“No. No, Vanilla. That’s not happening.”

Marc kisses him then and Colt accepts that kiss. “Maybe I can help… with gettin’ you to Rodrigo.”

Marc smirks at him. “No, you’re not getting anywhere near him. You’ve dealt with him enough for a lifetime. No more, alright? No more.”

Colt hears the rain against the glass again and he comments. “Once he’s dead I can go out into the rain again, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you can.” Marc says. “I’ll even go with you. We’ll dance in the rain, two things you like.”

“I don’t know if it’s still as romantic if you’re just tryin’ for two birds with one stone.” Colt is surprised to feel himself flirting with Marc. It’s been awhile since he’s flirted.

“But you’ll do it anyway, Vanilla. And you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, I probably will.” Colt agrees, his lips brushing against Marc’s.

Colt’s hand slips up to press against Marc’s abdomen over the cotton of his shirt. This time he initiates the kiss and Marc is the one smiling into his lips and letting Colt kiss him for a few seconds before the kiss is returned.

“That wasn’t a bad plan you put out there. You good with everything that just went down?”

Colt shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m good with it or not. I know I want it done though, and I don’t know what that says about me… wanting somebody dead.”

He wants Rodrigo dead and gone. He wants to be able to go outside safely. He wants to try to get some of his life back and that surprises him. He’s ready for it though.

“It says you’re ready to live outside of how things are right now, and that’s okay.” Marc mimics Colt’s thoughts as he so often does. Marc grabs Colt’s chin to make Colt look at him. “But I want you to talk to me next time, not everyone else. I’m in charge.”

Again, Marc looks frightening to Colt, as he sometimes does. Colt nods quickly at him. “I know. The words were just there and-”

“It’s alright.” Marc pets at the scruff of Colt’s beard over his cheek. “I just worry about you getting too involved. I worry about you. Period. And I love you, Colt.”

“I love you too.” Colt whispers, and he means it. In spite of everything, he means it.

**

 **Sam:** Hey. Just checking in, man. I know Marc said you need time but I’m just worried about you. Friend to friend. No pressure. I’m here.

Colt stares at the text for a long time, his heart in his throat and his nerves ricocheting all over the place in his gut. Is he ready to talk to Sam? Is he ready to talk to anyone outside of Marc and his men?

He wants to be ready, but he doesn’t know if he is. He feels like he’s a different person than he was the last time he saw Sam… or anyone else outside of this house for that matter.

The last time he didn’t know if he wanted to text somebody, he ended up letting someone else be brave for him. That someone else was Marc.

Colt wants to be brave all on his own. This is why, hours later, he returns the text.

 **Colt:** Hey. Sorry I’ve been MIA.

 **Sam:** Don’t worry about it. Marc told me what happened. He seems like an alright guy, a little intense. Are you okay?

Colt thinks about that for a minute and again it takes him much too long to return a simple text. He decides to go with honesty.

 **Colt:** I’m not okay. I’m also trying really hard to be okay.

 **Sam:** You don’t have to be okay.

 **Colt:** In that case, I’m pretty messed up right now.

 **Sam:** Someone attacked you?

 **Colt:** Yeah.

 **Sam:** They beat you up?

 **Colt:** No.

 **Sam:** I get it. You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.

It’s been so damn hard for Colt to think of what happened with Rodrigo as rape. But right now, texting with Sam, someone who is completely outside of what happened, he can see it so clearly. He still doesn’t want to call it rape, but clearly, that’s what it was.

 **Colt:** Marc keeps telling me that he’s gonna make things better for me.

 **Sam:** That’s something you have to do for yourself, right?

 **Colt:** I guess so.

 **Sam:** You’ve hinted at what happened with your dad when you were a kid. You saved yourself from that. You made things better for yourself. Is this any different?

 **Colt:** Not when you put it that way.

 **Sam:** You do it at your own pace, when you’re ready.

 **Colt:** Are you a shrink or something?

 **Sam:** Just a worried friend. And speaking of that, why didn’t you tell me you were gay? I would’ve been fine with it.

 **Colt:** I think I’m bi, but… yeah, I guess I wasn’t ready for that either.

 **Sam:** So we’re two bi peas in a pod. See? It’s all good.

 **Colt:** Really?

 **Sam:** Really. Hey, text or call anytime. Like I said, I’m here.

 **Colt:** Thanks.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

Over the next two days plans begin to form to get to Rodrigo with as minimal casualties as possible. Not only is Colt glad for that, but it seems like Marc’s men are relieved. Those men were and are friends to a lot of them, no matter their reasons for backing Rodrigo over Marc. To Colt, they’re all just men who stood idly by while Rodrigo took Colt apart piece by piece. Colt still doesn’t want their blood anywhere near his hands. He just wants Rodrigo dead.

Colt and Sam have texted a few more times. It feels like it’s easier for Colt to be truthful with Sam than it is with anyone else. Sam has no frame of reference for some of the things Colt tells him. Sam has no temper that could boil over into unnecessary violence.

One of the nights Colt makes dinner for everyone. He’s never cooked enough to feed over a dozen men, but he does so and they all seem to like it. It makes Colt feel good.

He’s been in bed for awhile and is in that in-between place of sleep and awake when he feels the bed behind him shift. For a brief moment he thinks of Rodrigo and then pushes the thought aside. Colt is in his own house. Marc is with him. Marc won’t let Rodrigo near Colt or vice versa.

He feels Marc’s hand rest on his waist and slide down over his skin.

“You have everything planned out?” Colt asks quietly.

“Yeah. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

There’s a kiss at Colt’s shoulder and then he rolls to his back to look up at the shadow of Marc in the dark room. “I wish you’d let me help. I promise my head is as straight as it’s gonna get right now. I feel kind of useless.”

“You’re the opposite of that. This whole plan was yours. Don’t think the guys don’t know that. Don’t think I don’t know that.” Marc says. “You’re not useless.”

“Is tomorrow the day?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s the day.”

Colt grows quiet, thinking about how many people could end up dead and hoping that it’s just Rodrigo. If all goes as planned, it’ll just be Rodrigo. Colt has no amount of naivete left in him that makes him truly and fully believe that Rodrigo’s will be the only death. It could be a bloodbath for all he knows.

Marc’s lips are on his skin, infiltrating his morbid thoughts. Colt feels kisses trail over his body and he slowly catches on to what Marc is doing. He remembers Marc doing this a few times before, kissing every inch of skin available – which right now, is all of it.

Colt’s hands rest lightly on the back of Marc’s neck, smooth up over the buzz cut on his head and back down to his shoulders as Marc’s kisses work their way lower and lower.

When Marc’s mouth is on his cock Colt can’t help the way he arches upward ever so slightly in attempt to quietly ask for more. He’s quit begging for it out loud but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want it. He lives with the ghost of constant sex every minute of every day. He understands why Marc won’t though, not yet at least. He lives with the hope that eventually Marc will follow through with his promises and be his last.

Colt falls asleep in Marc’s arms after they’ve done nothing more than make out.

Waking up is another story. He’s had nightmares where every man who has been in and out of his house over the past few weeks are dead. Colt walked over the bodies knowing that he did this. The plan was his and it failed.

In his nightmare Colt found Marc’s body, a man so full of energy and life now dead in every way. Colt’s eyes are swollen with the damp of impending tears as he starts to wake up. With the shock of the dream he’d had, it takes him a moment to realize that fingers are being pushed up inside of him, that Marc has lubed him and is finger fucking his ass.

His body gets there before his mind does, instinctively pushing back against the welcomed intrusion as his entire self comes alive and tingles with want, need and excitement. Any tears that might have threatened are gone as his mind slowly wakes up and catches up to reality.

Marc isn’t dead. Marc is here.

“I want you.” Colt whispers into the dark room without thinking. The moment he says the words he kicks himself, prepares for Marc to tell him not yet, it isn’t time, whatever excuse there is now.

“Say my name, Colt.”

“Marc. You’re Marc.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Colt says, then pleads. “Please, babe. Please...”

Marc’s fingers pull out of him and Colt presses his face into the pillow and growls out of pure frustration. He hears Marc smirking behind him and the click of the bedside lamp.

“Roll over to your back.”

When Colt does as instructed, he finds their bedroom dimly illuminated so that they can see one another. Marc instructs him to life his hips and slides some pillows beneath Colt’s ass when he does so. Then Marc lifts both of Colt’s legs up.

“You’re gonna watch me fuck you.” Marc says.

This is it. Marc is finally going to fuck him the way they should have done it their first time. Colt’s entire self wants it; body, heart, mind and soul. His skin is electric, a live wire as he feels the press of Marc’s thick, hard cock to his tight hole. Colt exhales, relaxes, gives Marc every sign that he wants this as Marc pumps deeper and deeper.

When Colt closes hie eyes, Marc immediately corrects him. “Look at me, Vanilla. Don’t look away.”

They never lose eye contact after that.

Marc is slow at first, taking great care to make sure that nothing hurts. It’s almost maddening for Colt. It feels like he’s waited forever for this to the point that he wants an erratic, messy, rough fuck. They can go slow later, he thinks. As is everything with them, they do what Marc wants and Colt is along for the ride.

Slow doesn’t last forever. Neither of them would have been able to hold back for long. Marc fucks him so good in the end. He plows into him so that Colt can feel him deep in every way he’s imagined feeling him for so long.

It’s perfect. It’s everything he wanted. It’s everything he needed.

He feels the weight of Marc on top of him when they’re both spent. Colt’s fingertips glide over Marc’s back and he whispers. “Thank you.”

Marc kisses the side of his neck, his cheek, his jaw and then his lips before answering. “You’re mine, Colt.”

“I’m yours.” He wouldn’t even think of disputing the fact for all of the truth that it is. Marc is his. Colt belongs to Marc. They belong to each other. Marc was his first and will be his last. Colt would have it no other way.

**

Colt’s house is empty save for Emmitt, Michelle and himself. It feels strange after how consistently full it’s been for so long. Marc’s mom had showed up right before everyone left. Colt didn’t have the heart to explain that he was actually looking forward to some alone time. Marc is just worried about him and Colt understands that.

There are two of Marc’s men standing out front guarding the house. Everyone else is gone.

Before kissing Marc before he left, Colt had asked one more time if he could come help. Marc had refused, of course. A part of Colt was disappointed while the other part was relieved. He doesn’t want to be back in that house. He also feels… useless.

Maybe that’s why Michelle had insisted that they cook for when her husband, son and the other men get back. Again, Colt didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

They’re piecing together beef enchiladas to put into the oven, the both of them doing the kind of dance that everyone does when more than one person is cooking in a small galley kitchen. Spanish rice and beans are simmering in pots on the stove.

Michelle has been regaling him with stories of Marc and continues to do so. “When he was little he was every bit as headstrong as he is now. Just like his father, so defiant and strong minded. It never mattered what was expected of him, he was going to do what he was going to do.” She says. “Although I have to add that he only back-talked me once. Juan showed him who was boss and Marco never did it again, he only acted rather than argue his case.”

Colt smirks. “That sounds about right. Juan seems very protective of you.”

“As Marco does of you.”

“I was never that headstrong. I guess… I guess I got that beaten out of me.” Colt admits. “A lot of things are like that. My dad was…”

“I understand.” Michelle says. “My father was not cruel to me, as I can understand yours was, but he was an absent drunk, cheating on my mother who would always take him back in.”

“I’m sorry. That was probably hard to watch.”

“As a child, yes. As an adult, I found a man who knows nothing but loyalty to family. Juan would never treat me as my father did my mother. I hope that Marco would never treat you as your father did.” When Colt is silent in response to that, Michelle pauses what she’s doing and studies him. “Has he beat you?”

No, Marc has never beaten him to a pulp like his father did. Marc has hit him. Marc has been rough with him. Marc has a temper that Colt doesn’t quite know the extent of just yet.

Colt lifts his shoulders in a shrug, not sure if he should be talking about this with Marc’s mom. “He’s never beat me up like my dad did. He’s… it’s just that he has a temper.”

“He’s hit you?” Michelle asks.

Colt is nodding when he hears a thump against the front door and someone yelling something unintelligible. He drops the spoon and the tortilla he’s working with into the plate on the counter and moves toward the front door.

“Colt, get back.” Michelle goes to the table where her purse is and pulls out a small gun. “Stay back from the door.”

Colt steps back and goes through the living room to try to get a look out of the front windows. He doesn’t see the two men who had been positioned out front. Emmitt starts barking in the backyard and all Colt can think is that he needs to get his dog inside.

He goes for the laundry room, entering just as the creak of the screen door sounds and he’s face to face with Rodrigo and a gun aimed directly at him. Colt stops short and puts both hands up.

The older man lets a grin slide slowly over his lips. “Hello, Colt. A pleasure to see my little slut again. I brought you a surprise.”

“Rodrigo.” Michelle says, standing just behind Colt.

All words, all thoughts leave Colt as a man steps up behind Rodrigo. It’s a man Colt knows all too well. It’s another man from his nightmares.

“I hear you’re a queer now.” Westin Jackson says.

Colt stares at his father like a deer in headlights. He’s blank for awhile as Rodrigo and Michelle have a back and forth with one another that he doesn’t listen to. He’s vaguely aware that threats were made and Michelle has placed the gun she held onto the washer next to them.

Slowly, questions start to form in his mind. “How? Why?”

Rodrigo is smiling at him again, it’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “A modern invention called the internet and the telephone, Colt. And why? Because of the look on your face right now.”

Colt still can’t look away from his father. It’s like a horrible dream having him here. Westin Jackson isn’t supposed to be in his life anymore. He isn’t supposed to be a part of the world where Colt lives anymore.

“Rodrigo. State your business here or leave.” Michelle says.

“Ah, Michelle, as feisty as ever. Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious. I’ve missed family meals as we used to have.”

“You’re the one who ruined that, not us.” She looks over Rodrigo’s shoulder at Westin. “I would like for you both to leave. You are not welcome. We do not invite you in.”

Westin smirks. “This my son’s house? I think he’ll let me in.”

“It’s neither here nor there, Mr. Jackson. They both know that Fiarri’s take what they want. We want to come in for a nice chat.” Rodrigo says, stepping into the laundry room. “That’s all.”

Both Colt and Michelle take a step backward. One step leads to another and that’s all it takes to let a couple of lions into the sheep pen.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

The dark, mahogany table that Marc had bought for the house came with four matching chairs. Each chair is filled right now with Colt and Michelle sitting across from one another on the long side of the rectangular table and Rodrigo and Westin across from one another at the short ends. It’s a strange macabre sort of gathering that Colt wishes he could exit post haste.

Rodrigo is holding a gun as casually as if he were holding a pen.

Colt is trying so damn hard not to retreat into himself as he used to do when he was a kid. Some seconds he fights it pretty well. Other seconds he feels himself slipping away from the present situation. It’s an ongoing internal battle.

“Where’s mom?” Colt asks.

“Like you care.” His father tosses back at him, then he smirks and answers the question. “She died almost a year ago now. Had an accident.”

The implication of the words and his father’s tone of voice makes it pretty clear that that accident was Westin Jackson. Colt has been in a few of those accidents although none of them have been so severe to take his life.

He looks down to the table, wondering how it happened, feeling sad that he left her there but relieved that she doesn’t have to live a life that no one should have to live anymore. His mom is dead. He didn’t even know that it happened. That’s the choice he made though. It’s a choice he _had_ to make for himself.

“What are you doing here, Rodrigo?” Michelle asks.

“Marco’s men are in my house right now as we speak. I thought it was only fair that I visit Marco’s house as well.” Rodrigo answers. “They’re killing my men. I’m certain some of my men will kill them as well. So maybe I teach my brother and nephew a lesson about cause and effect. They kill mine, I kill theirs.”

Colt and Michelle exchange a knowing glance with one another. Rodrigo thinks that Marc’s men are killing his. They’re not, at least not if they can help it. They’re doping them.

Colt looks at his father. “Why are you here?”

“This nice man got in touch with me. Told me what a fucked up pervert you’ve turned into. Said I should check in on you.”

“Nice man? Dad, he’s not nice.” Colt says.

“Paid my plane ticket. Said he’d help me out with some of the overdue bills I got.” Westin says. “Seems nice enough to me.”

“So he’s paying you to come check on me?” Colt smirks and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Now I get it.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Colt. I can still kick your ass, especially now that you’re a fuckin’ fairy.”

Colt swallows hard and goes quiet. Colt is taller than his father but not as broad and not as muscled. He has no idea if his dad can still kick his ass or not. He knows that just Westin’s saying it makes him want to retreat.

He scrubs his face with his hands and then looks to Rodrigo. “So we’re just gonna sit here and talk?”

“For a bit, yes.” Rodrigo reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a syringe.

The sight of it makes Colt’s heart skip a beat and his lungs forget to breathe. The older man rests it on the table near Colt. Colt crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair away from the syringe. He looks at Rodrigo who seems thoroughly amused by the entire moment.

“Has he fucked you yet, Colt?” Rodrigo asks.

“That’s not your business.”

“How long did it take him to get over the things you did without him?” The older man continues. “How long did it take you to get clean enough for him? Did you ever? Or did he take pity on you in the end?”

Colt feels like his skin is itching again, which makes no sense except that Rodrigo is once again playing a psychological game that Colt is ill equipped to combat. At least with his father it’s straight up homophobia and straight forward abuse and hate. Rodrigo’s game is much more dangerous than that… at least where Colt is concerned.

“Is that the drug you told me he was hooked on?” Westin asks.

“It is. He’s trying to fight it right now though, aren’t you Colt?” Rodrigo pushes the syringe even closer to Colt. “This is yours, if you want it.”

As much as Colt has felt like he’s over it, he’s not. The urge to make himself numb to everything is almost overwhelmingly tempting. The urge to get on the dark cloud where nothing can touch him is just as tempting, especially in this moment, especially with his father here.

But of course Rodrigo knew how bringing Westin to Colt would affect him.

He looks across the table at Michelle. “I don’t want it.”

“Rodrigo, you are being cruel. Why are you being so cruel?” Michelle asks.

Rodrigo ignores her. “Do you remember when you were on your dark cloud, Colt? You were high on the Poison. You begged to be fucked every hour on the hour. Who were you begging?”

“You. I was high.” Colt says.

“Who else?”

Colt’s stomach roils uncomfortably. “Those were hallucinations.”

“Who else, Colt?”

“Marc.” Colt answers.

“And?”

Colt takes a few deep breaths, remembering how Rodrigo had manipulated him into thinking about his father, how the hallucinations had become his father. He looks over to Westin Jackson right then, his face flushed with heat and nausea building in his stomach.

Realization seems to hit Westin then, followed by disgust. “What the fuck?” He drawls slowly, then stands and backhands Colt’s cheek so hard that it throws him sideways and Colt tastes blood.

Colt saw it coming though. Westin is big and slow. Colt learned to see hits coming when he was little, now he reaches for the syringe and jams it into Westin’s arm, pushing the Poison into him.

He hears a silenced bullet and feels a sharp pain in one shoulder. Michelle screams. Colt doesn’t care. He watches as the Poison takes hold of his father, as reality leaves him and he’s suddenly utterly and completely out of control. Colt feels the corners of his lips pull into a slight smile. He revels in the sight of Westin Jackson’s loss of control and power. He revels in his own father’s sudden inadequacy.

“You’ve killed him, Colt. Good job.”

Rodrigo’s words slowly sink in and Colt turns to look at the man. “What?”

“It’s a concentrated dosage, my dirty little boy. He’s about to overdose. And we’ll all sit here and watch. Have a seat.” Rodrigo makes sure to draw Colt’s attention to the gun still trained on him.

As he gets back up into his chair, Colt becomes aware of a sharp pain in his shoulder. He’s been shot. Warm blood slides down his arm. He presses a hand to the wound and glances over to Michelle who is eyeing him worriedly before he looks down at his father on the floor.

The man’s eyes are glazed over, fluttering open and closed. His lips mumble unintelligible words at someone, or something. What does a man like Westin Jackson hallucinate when he’s high? Colt has never seen him like this, prone and vulnerable, out of his mind.

“Retribution for all that he did to you, for all that he did to your mother. Doesn’t revenge feel good, Colt?”

Colt shakes his head. “No.”

Although, deep down, it kind of does. Colt doesn’t love his father as he once did, in the way that all children blindly love their parents before their parents give them a reason not to. He didn’t want to kill him though.

That’s three. Three lives he’s taken.

When Colt looks over to Rodrigo again, the man is looking at him with understanding, as if he can read what’s deep down inside of Colt where he doesn’t want anyone to see him.

“Marc will be back here soon.” Colt says.

Michelle adds. “And Juan.”

“Perhaps.” Rodrigo concedes with a nod. “Perhaps not. But if so, what will they find when they get here? That remains to be seen. One dead body so far.”

Westin is convulsing on the floor, his body dancing and jutting out beyond his control. Foam slides from the corner of his mouth. Colt holds his breath, disbelieving that this Poison, or some version of the Poison, was ever in his body, that he could ever want it.

When Colt’s father finally goes still, Colt slowly exhales a breath he’d been holding. Is he dead? Colt watches for any sign of life, half hoping to see movement and half praying he’s gone.

“Colt.” He hears, but continues staring at his father, looking for signs. “Colt, look at me.” He tears his eyes away, looking over to Michelle.

“It’s okay.” Michelle says and nods. “It’s okay. He was a bad man.”

It’s not okay. But he understands that their situation is still precarious, that she needs him to be present. Colt nods at her, letting her know that he’s still in this with her. “It’s okay.”

Rodrigo sets another syringe on the table and Colt feels his insides flip-flop again. “It’s like Russian Roulette, is it not? Not to fear, this one is your normal dosage, Colt.”

Colt shakes his head at Rodrigo. “I don’t want it.”

He means it this time. Seeing what happened to his father, remembering the things he’d done while high with Rodrigo… no, he really doesn’t want to go there again.

“How could he trust you that it’s a normal dose after what just happened?” Michelle asks. “Also, he needs medical attention. You shot him, Rodrigo.”

“Needs must.” Rodrigo says simply, shifting his aim to Michelle, his eyes still trained on Colt. “And might I add that I care not for what you want or don’t want. It’s what I want that matters.”

“Rodrigo, you wouldn’t. We’re family.” Michelle says, suddenly fearful for her own life.

“My family turned against me long ago. Take the medicine, Colt. You’re a smart boy. The consequence should you choose to do anything but what I tell you is very obvious.”

He’s threatening to shoot Michelle. Rodrigo is smart. Colt doesn’t care much for his own life in this moment, not after having just killed his own father. The biggest incentive he could give Colt is to threaten someone else, someone Colt actually likes.

“You’ll let her go?” Colt asks of Michelle.

“I will, only if you do as you’re told.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“Russian roulette, Colt. Take a gamble.”

Colt looks at Michelle. She looks determined, angry and also scared. Colt swallows hard and takes a deep breath before he reaches out to take the syringe. He has a vision of doing to Rodrigo what he did to his father and he tightly fists the syringe as if it were the weapon he wants it to be.

A silenced gunshot and a spray of plaster in the wall behind Michelle make Colt loosen his grip on the syringe.

“The next one goes in her heart.” Rodrigo says. “Do as you’re told, my dirty boy.”

Colt brings the syringe to his arm and glances at his dead father on the floor. Is it a concentrated dose? Is it really a regular dose? Which one is true? Rodrigo is more than capable of lying. He’s also quite possibly telling the truth.

He watches Michelle, thinking of Marc as he does. Maybe Marc is on his way here. Maybe Marc is dead. Marc would want Colt to do what he could to save his mom.

The needle pierces into his skin and Colt pushes the Poison into his body. Almost instantly he starts to feel it. There are a few seconds where he’s still lucid enough to worry that he might have just killed himself. It doesn’t last long.

“Call me Papa, Colt.” Rodrigo says as Colt loses his grip on reality.

“Papa. Can I lay down?” He just needs to lay down. Sitting is too hard. He can’t remember if he was given permission, but he’s getting out of the chair and crawling onto the floor. The floor is softening and turning to gray wisps as he hears a commotion behind him. Colt presses his cheek to the cool surface of his cloud.

Time is fluid. Colt knows that time is passing, but he has no idea how much.

He hears Michelle’s voice. She’s kneeling beside him and pressing something to the wound in his shoulder. She keeps talking to him, trying to get him to talk. Colt mumbles some words but isn’t sure that they make any sense.

His mom is here, worrying over him, caring about him – which makes no sense because she never did either of those things. She’s also dead, according to his father. His father’s dead too. She looks beautiful though, like she did when Colt was a small child. He always thought she was beautiful until she quit caring about everything, including him, including herself.

Colt’s throat becomes thick with bile and he starts to cough. There are men in the house, checking his pulse and asking questions. They shouldn’t be up here. This is his safe space. 

His mom, no… Michelle talks to them. Just as well because the world is fading and Colt can’t speak words. 

Rodrigo lied. His Papa lied to him. This isn’t his regular dose of medicine. It’s something more. It’s too much.

As Colt begins to convulse on the floor, he feels it’s no less than he deserves.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

When Colt wakes up he’s very, very cold, so much so that he’s shivering. His shoulder aches and that’s what reminds him of what happened. Rodrigo. His father. A gun. Some syringes. Poison.

Marc’s mom.

Colt gasps and opens his eyes, trying to sit up. A hand presses him back down.

“Woah, Colt. Lie back.”

The voice is familiar, but not so familiar that he knows who it is until he opens his eyes. Juan looks down at him. Colt looks around for Michelle, finding her sitting on a recliner in the corner of the hospital room. She’s crying. He looks for Marc and then up to Juan.

“Marc?”

Juan shakes his head. “Marco needs medical care right now. There’s nothing you or I can do for him.”

It’s then that Colt notices the sling holding one of Juan’s arms in place. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. “Oh no...” He breathes the words out.

“He’s in surgery. The bullet is very close to his heart. I saw him fall down a flight of stairs after he was shot. He has a very serious head and spine injury.” Juan says. “They knew we were coming. One of the men who’s been with Marco at your house is a rat… _was_ a rat.”

“How many?” Colt asks.

Juan doesn’t parse words with Colt and Colt is glad for it. “Too many on both sides. Once Marco knew it was a trap and that Rodrigo wasn’t in residence, he tried to call it off. It was too late. It was a bloodbath on both sides.”

Colt closes his eyes when they start to blur with tears. This is his fault. It was his plan. If only he’d stayed out of it…

“You saved my wife’s life and I will never be able to thank you for that.” Juan says. “And no matter what happens with my son, you have made him happy. I’m grateful for that as well.”

Colt shakes his head. Did he save Michelle? He can’t really remember. Did he make Marc as happy as he could have? He doesn’t think so. He wasted a lot of time with Marc, worrying over things that don’t really matter in the big picture.

“My dad?” Colt asks.

“He is dead, as is Rodrigo.”

“Why am I not dead?”

“Because Michelle says she called 911 before she joined you in the laundry room of your home, where she says Rodrigo came in. This IV has flushed much of the high dosage of Poison out of your system.”

The IV. It must be why his mind isn’t so jumbled as it usually is when waking up after a dose of Poison as well. He isn’t a hundred percent, but he isn’t so groggy that he can’t think straight either.

“Then she saved my life too.” Colt says.

“I suppose that is correct.” Juan nods, placing a hand at Colt’s wrist. “I understand that you have never had a true family to speak of, only a poor substitution for one. Michelle and I have decided that you are forever Fiarri, Colt. Mia famiglia.”

Those words mean so much to Colt. They touch him on a deeply personal and intimate level. They also scare him. The Fiarri’s scare him – all of them.

“Thank you.” He says. It’s the only thing there is to say.

**

As soon as he’s able, Colt is up and walking around. His wounds are minimal compared to others. He doesn’t want to take up space in a bed if he doesn’t have to. He’s given pain meds for the gunshot wound and then goes to sit in the waiting room with Juan and Michelle. 

The waiting room is full of men from Marco’s crew, some injured and cared for and some unscathed. They all acknowledge him with nods and waves.

Sebastian stands up, walks over to him and embraces him. “I’m glad you’re alright, man. We were all worried about you.”

Colt hugs him with the arm that doesn’t send pain shooting up to his shoulder. “Now we can all worry about Marc.”

“Jacob’s dead. He was a good guy, man. I just...”

Jacob’s dead. Jacob will never watch over him and Marc while they dance again. Jacob will never give him another tattoo. They’re such strange thoughts to have in the moment.

“Oh no, I’m… I’m so sorry. I know he was your friend. I...”

“Yeah. Hey. It’s not your fault, alright? Marco wanted me to tell you that it’s not your fault and that he loves vanilla… or something like that. I don’t know. The bullet hit him and he was down and he mumbled a few things and then he passed out.” Sebastian says. “He said it’s not your fault and he loves vanilla.”

“Okay.” Colt nods, letting Sebastian know he did what he needed to do in relaying the distorted message. Colt gets the gist of it. “Okay. I get it. Thank you.”

Colt goes to sit down next to Juan and Michelle. He doesn’t know if they saved the seat for him or not, but it’s one of the only empty ones in the room and Michelle puts an arm around his shoulders when he sits. Colt imagines that this is what his own mom would have done before his dad crushed her beneath his fists.

Michelle is a good mom.

It’s some time later when a doctor enters the room. “Fiarri family?”

Juan and Michelle stand up. The entirety of the room stands up behind Juan and Michelle, including Colt.

The doctor has the wherewithal to look a little bit intimidated as he begins to speak. “I’m afraid the news is not good.”

Colt hears the word coma and then his brain short circuits. He sits back down because he isn’t sure that his legs can continue to carry his weight right now. Tears fill his eyes and start making slow treks down his face.

This is his fault. This is his fault. This entire plan was his. It’s his fault.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and sees Sebastian sitting next to him. Sebastian is crying too. They don’t say anything to one another. There are no words needed.

**

It’s two days later when Colt walks back into his own home. Juan and Michelle had let him in to see Marc with them multiple times. The brick wall of a man doesn’t look so unbreakable anymore. Marc is showing no signs so far of coming out of his vegetative state.

Someone has cleaned up his house and he has no idea who. Colt lets Emmitt in and feeds him. He goes into the bathroom and showers, because he needs to, not because he feels compelled to. Then he falls into bed. He’s so tired that it takes little to no time for him to pass out.

**

Colt is at the hospital every day after that, ofttimes multiple times a day. When he’s home, he reads a lot. Michelle brings over meals to make sure Colt is eating. Juan and Michelle come by. Sebastian comes by. Colt is always glad to see them. He also always feels an intense amount of guilt when he sees them.

His house feels strangely empty with just himself, without Marc’s men, without Marc himself.

Marc is still showing no signs of waking up.

One night Colt surprises himself when he feels the urge to play his violin. He stares at the instrument a long time before finally picking it up. He holds it for awhile, reacquainting himself with the familiar feel and weight of it. 

When he brings the instrument up to rest his chin in the chin rest, he closes his eyes and tries not to think of Rodrigo. He puts bow to strings and begins to play.

Why is he so surprised to know that he can still play?

Colt plays for hours, one song pouring into the next. He plays until his soul feels the smallest twinge of happiness and his muscles ache from disuse.

Afterward, he settles onto the couch, wanting so badly to tell Marc about what just happened and knowing that he can’t. ICU visiting hours are over.

He does the next best thing.

 **Colt:** I just played my violin and I didn’t suck.

 **Sam:** No shit. You’re a rockstar with a stringed instrument and a bow.

 **Colt:** I thought I lost it.

 **Sam:** Because of what happened?

 **Colt:** Yeah, the guy who… well he played mind games and I guess I thought I lost music.

 **Sam:** Sounds like you never lost it. It was just an interlude.

 **Colt:** I guess so.

 **Colt:** Marc is in a coma.

 **Sam:** What? How? Are you okay?

 **Colt:** I can’t answer all your questions but it’s not looking good and I feel like a part of me is in denial about it and I guess I just needed something good to happen and someone to share something good with.

 **Sam:** Music heals.

 **Colt:** Yeah, it does.

 **Sam:** I get you.

 **Colt:** I get you too. Goodnight, Sam.

 **Sam:** Night, Colt.

**

“When I was little, I used to dream of bein’ in a better place. I’d dream that someone would come and save me, that maybe they’d see through the lies I told and figure out what was really goin’ on in my house and make everything better. The older I got, the more I realized that that wasn’t gonna happen. If I wanted better, I had to make it happen. That’s why I left home. No note, no goodbye… I just left.”

Colt’s thumb runs over the up and down of the knuckles on one of Marc’s hands. “I lived just fine on my own, Marc. When I met you, I was excited because you made me feel somethin’ new. You excited me. You were handsome and dangerous and an unknown… and you never took no for an answer.

“You gave all of the good parts of you to me and I thank you for that. You also gave me all of the bad parts and I accepted them because… I guess I’m just used to accepting the bad parts of people. Love means accepting it all, right? The good and the bad?

“But some of it you didn’t have to give me, Marc. I grew to love you so much… but you let me down. All of this alone time, I can see it clearly; the way you controlled every move I made, the way your temper made you hit me, the way your jealousy very near turned me into a prisoner in my own home and the way you branded me as yours… like ranchers do cattle.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to the back of Marc’s hand. “I know you love me, Marc. I’m your Vanilla. And don’t think I don’t love you… because I do. I hate that you aren’t in our bed at night. I actually kind of miss some of your control over me – not all of it, just some of it. It’s just that I can see what you did to me now and… I should have fought some of it. I should have stood up to you and showed you who we could become together instead of letting you take over everything until there was very little of my independence left for Rodrigo to exploit.”

There’s no response. Of course there’s no response. Marc is still in a coma. It’s been over six weeks now and Marc has shown no signs of waking up.

Colt wants him to wake up.

He’s pleaded with him. He’s cried. He’s yelled at him and shaken him, trying to wake him up. He’s even asked nicely, all to no avail.

In a way, the time without Marc has been good for him. Colt found a job at a different library. It’s a further drive than his old job but that’s okay. Colt has been reading and playing his instruments and generally finding himself again.

Colt still loves Marc.

“I don’t mean to put all this on you while you can’t respond. I know… I know I come in here and talk to you about nonsense and read to you and now I’m gettin’ serious and you still can’t say anything back to me. I just… I needed to say these things.”

Colt rests his brow against Marc’s hand. “I love you, Marc. I do. I just hope that if you wake up… no, _when_ you wake up, you can love me too… love me the way I am now and not the me you made me into. I’m not a doll you can keep locked away for yourself, Marc. That’s what Rodrigo did and you’re better than him. You’re _so_ much better than him. Love me for me, Marc. If you can’t do that, then-”

A sound at the door makes Colt lift his head and find Mar’s parents there. Shit. How long have they been standing there? Colt lets go of Marc’s hand and wipes tears from the back of the hand and his own face.

“You’re probably wondering if we heard everything. I think we heard most of it.” Michelle says, coming in to wrap Colt in a hug as he stands up from the chair beside the bed. “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Colt.”

“I did. I intended to eavesdrop.” Juan says. “I understand though. I understand every word, even what you didn’t say, and I think my wife does as well.”

Michelle pulls back from Colt and Juan offers him a hand, which Colt shakes.

“I’m sorry, I...” Colt starts and then can’t find the words.

Juan shakes his head. “No need. You look well, Colt.”

Colt nods. “I’m doin’ pretty good, all things considering. I miss him.”

“We all miss him.”

“I was just about to leave, so y’all can have that chair and… and the room.” Colt says. “It was great seein’ you both.”

Michelle rests a hand on Colt’s arm. “You should come for dinner some night.”

“I will.”

“No, let’s not make promises we can’t or won’t keep.” She says. “Let’s really do it.”

“Mia famiglia.” Juan says.

Colt knows that the fine print on what Juan really means is that what his wife wants, she gets. He likes that about Juan, the way he dotes on Michelle. But also, Colt does feel like he’s a part of the Fiarri family whether he wants to be or not.

Colt nods at the both of them. “Family. Text me when you want me there and I’ll show up.” This will be a promise kept.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three : Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colt is just trying to keep his nose clean and live a life better than where he came from. His path is straight and narrow until Marc enters his life. Marc is about to flip everything upside down and introduce Colt to a world where straight and narrow paths come to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This fic will be a slow burn and is liable to eventually get very dark and twisted as most of my writing does. (I do try to put things back together in the end though!)
> 
> I update tags with every chapter if needed. Please watch the warning tags as it progresses for anything that might understandably trigger you.

“Okay, okay… but no, what I’m saying is you have this crazy high octave to your singing voice that you never use.” Colt says. “I’ve heard it before but only when you’re jokin’ around. You should try seriously using it in a song.”

“What? Like on stage in public? I’m no Steven Tyler, man.” Sam laughs and reaches for his beer to take a drink.

Colt mimics him, taking a drink of his own beer. They’re sitting in his living room and they’ve been working on a few new songs that Colt wrote. Yes, he wrote some lyrics which is basically the same thing as bleeding all of your emotions onto a piece of paper. Now Sam is helping him put them to music. Sam seems to love them so much that he’s even considering adding them to the Drunken Wizard’s sets.

“No one is Steven Tyler. He’s a badass. You’re you. I’m not talkin’ about screaming your high notes like he does. Actually sing them.” Colt sets his beer down and points to the music. “So here at the end of the chorus say we put a little something haunting that you sing way up here… it could really add to the song.”

“Alright. Alright, lets try it.” Sam says.

“Ad lib it, okay? Just wing it and go with what your gut tells you to do.”

“Alright, yeah. Fuck it. Let’s try it from the chorus.”

Colt strums the keys on the guitar and Sam starts to sing the chorus. Colt hasn’t performed with the Drunken Wizards live yet although he’s scheduled to do his first return to the set this weekend. He’s both excited and terrified to get back into it.

The weekend after that, a scout is coming out to hear their band live. Colt is also excited and terrified about this. He really believes that The Drunken Wizards could be something big.

This is the third time Sam has been over to his house to mess around with music and practice new stuff. It’s becoming a thing they do.

Marc has been in a coma for three and a half months now. Juan and Michelle have talked to Colt about taking Marc off of life support. Between the three of them, none of them have been able to make that final call yet. The doctors say that they don’t expect him to wake up at this point and that if they don’t pull the plug, Marc could slowly end up brain dead anyway. Still… how do you decide to pull the plug on someone you love? It’s an impossible decision because… what if? What if that one percent chance that they could wake up is something that becomes reality? What if you take that miracle away from them?

Colt finds himself thinking about Marc again as the chorus ends and Sam starts singing up in his higher register. It’s exactly what Colt had thought it would be; haunting and ethereal. This is Marc’s song and this is exactly how it should be.

At the end of the chorus, into the next verse, Sam stops singing and shakes his head. “I love it, man. You have such a great ear for music. You think it’s good enough to be sung in public? Not the song, my falsetto.”

“It’s definitely good enough.” Colt leans forward and jots some things down on the sheet paper in that spot to remind them.

“Hey...” Sam reaches out to brush some of Colt’s hair back from his face. “You alright? You look a little emotional.”

“Music, man… it’s just the music.” Which is partly true.

“Yeah. You ready for Saturday?”

Colt shrugs. “I’m gonna make myself be ready. I mean I’m nervous but I want to get this part of my life back. I’m gonna do it.”

“Fuck yeah, you will. You’re gonna do it. And if you ever need a break on stage… we can have a code word, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice… or something ridic like that.”

They both laugh and Colt leans back into the couch cushions. He doesn’t expect Sam to follow him. He doesn’t expect for their lips to touch or the kiss that follows. He doesn’t expect the mixture of both excitement and guilt that mingle together in his heart.

“Is this okay?” Sam asks.

It’s more than okay. It also isn’t okay. “What if…?”

“There are a lot of ‘what if’s’. I’m okay with that. If you’re not okay with it, I won’t do it again.”

Colt considers that for a long moment, the both of them still close enough to feel the heat of their beer scented breaths on one another. “What if I want you to do it again?” He finally asks.

“I like that what if.” Sam grins and kisses him again.

For the first time in a long while, Colt feels something light and good blossoming inside of him. It’s a small glimmer of hope that he wants to protect and nourish and let grow into something resembling the good person he once was.

Colt lets Sam touch him and he sets the guitar aside and touches Sam in return until he feels like he has to stop it before it can go too far because of all those what if’s that plague him. It doesn’t diminish what just happened though. It doesn’t negate what he just felt. Colt still feels that light and hope.

To stop Sam, he whispers three words into Sam’s mouth, three words that also promise more in the future: “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

Sam stops immediately. They both grin and then laugh.

Music heals, but hope - hope is the most powerful medicine of all.

-End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love!


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